


I Know Not The Reason

by zillywho



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Answer: fuck yeah you would, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling, Empathy, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Hurt and comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, POV Female Character, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader is an engineer, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Would you smooch an omnic?, hand-holding be still my heart, me doing my best with the available lore and conjectures hold on tight y'all, more tags and characters as tags and characters happen, rating will also change as Events Happen, reader also deals with depression, things are starting to get just a lil spicy, you will be friends with everyone god damn it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 55,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillywho/pseuds/zillywho
Summary: An impulse decision opens up a whole new world of opportunities for you as a member of Overwatch. Alternatively, how you rebuild your life from the ground up and find purpose with the help of Zenyatta and everyone else, but especially Zenyatta.





	1. Chapter 1

Wise men say  
Only fools rush in  
But I can’t help  
Falling in love with you.

* * *

It started, as important things often do, with a tragedy.

* * *

It’s a beautiful day, you thought numbly. The sun had finally parted the thick gray layer of rainclouds to favor the city with comfortable warmth and a bright sky. 

You had never felt more hopeless and lost in your entire life.

From this narrow, quiet side street you could hear the bustle and ambient noise of life: people chatting and laughing, a busker playing a saxophone surprisingly well, and the honks of impatient drivers. You sat down heavily by the door of your apartment building – or rather, what had been your apartment building an hour ago. But not anymore. All you had to your name was a laptop, a big suitcase of clothes, a backpack of odds and ends, and a soft walled carrier. Pulling the carrier gently onto your lap, you took a moment to consider your options and came up blank.

Your roommate had completely ghosted you. After a weekend out of town, you’d returned to your apartment to find that all their belongings were missing and that their phone had been disconnected. There was no way you could pay the entirety of rent by yourself, especially since you were pursuing a degree and had a low paying job. Frantically you had scrambled to come up with the money, or to find a roommate or a friend you could stay with, or to find another place to live that you could afford with your meager earnings. No dice. No backup plans.

Homeless, you thought dully. I’m homeless. For a long moment, all you could do was stare into the middle distance and feel sorry for yourself. 

The moment passed quickly. 

A blur of chrome and fluorescent green hurtled around the corner, very nearly running you over before noticing and sidestepping you. “Sorry!” the figure called over his shoulder in a rushed, accented voice. You barely had time to register the appearance of the…. man? Omnic? Whichever, he leapt effortlessly onto a dumpster and began to scale the sheer brick wall of the opposing building as you watched, dumbfounded. 

The pounding of heavy boots grew loud as a man dressed in all black rounded the corner at a dead sprint, eyes on the figure currently climbing straight up a wall. “Target in my sight, coming off Sixth Street!” the man snarled into a communicator, a shotgun hefted in front of him. “Get eyes on the roof, he’s climbing -”

Almost without thinking, you stuck your leg out and tripped that asshole.

As if in slow motion, his foot caught your leg and his eyes went comically wide before he magnificently wiped out. With a crash he hit the ground, his shotgun sent skidding and his face hitting the pavement with a wet crunch. 

“Why didn’t I think of that?” came an amused voice from somewhere above you. The metal figure with green running lights dropped down next to the felled pursuer in a crouch and sharply chopped the base of the man's head, causing him to fall unconscious. The mysterious person reached out a hand to you, a chuckle emanating from his visor, and hauled you to your feet.

“Genji is with you,” he said, almost cheerful. You blinked, surprise tying your tongue as you stuttered out your name to him. “An honor,” he said, bowing slightly, “but it is not safe here. You must follow me.”

“Ah, I’m not sure how quick I can move,” you stammered, gesturing to all your worldly possessions. Genji stopped, assessing what you had, and easily slung the backpack on and lifted the heavy suitcase as if it were a bag of groceries. “The safe house is not far,” he said urgently. “Can you run?” 

You gave a laugh that was only slightly hysterical. Impressive considering the circumstances. “Not far and not fast!”

“It will have to do!” came the response, and he started off at a quick jog that you tried your best to match. By the time you reached the nondescript old building, you had a stitch in your side and you were struggling to breathe evenly. You were many things, but in shape was not one of them. 

You were ushered into an elevator and as the doors closed you leaned heavily against the wall. Genji took a deep breath and let it out, not showing any signs of having exerted himself. He probably hadn't, you thought wryly. You gingerly placed the soft carrier on the floor by your feet and combed your sweaty hair back with your hand.

As your breath evened out, you could feel eyes on you and sure enough, his visor was faced towards you. “Um, hey. Genji, right?” you spoke carefully. “It's... nice to meet you? But if you’ll be so kind, what the hell is happening, exactly?”

Genji hummed noncommittally, crossing his arms. “It is… a long story. I am not the one to best explain it.”

The elevator gave a quiet ding and the doors opened. Genji stepped in front of you, gesturing you to follow. You did, taking the opportunity to look him over while he couldn’t judge you for it. In the quiet, you can hear the telltale whirr of machinery as he walked. Omnic? But your never heard of an omnic speaking in an accent or scaling a wall like he did, not that you had much experience being around omnics. Anything is possible, you supposed, but why did you feel like you had somehow seen him before? 

He stopped in front of a door that looked no different than the other doors in the hall. Producing a key, he opened the door and gestured you inside. The door closed behind you with a click and you examined the safe house, which was just a dime a dozen dusty old apartment. Which, you supposed, made sense in terms of being discreet. 

Someone sitting in a kitchen chair shot to their feet, scowling, and you froze as sharp blue eyes held you in place. “Who the hell is this?” he snapped, stomping up to stand in front of you. You had to look up slightly – the man was extremely tall and muscled, with platinum grey-blond hair and a nasty scar on his face. And again, you’re hit with the feeling that you’ve seen this person before, but you just couldn’t put a finger on it…

Genji started speaking and you tuned out, annoyed that you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. You glanced between Genji and the tall blond man. They were related somehow, you’d seen them in similar contexts, but where?

Then it clicked. Your mind flashed with old holovideos, a museum that was attacked, grainy images on social media – “Oh, shit,” you said quietly, feeling like the breath had been knocked out at you. Genji and the other man – Jack Morrison, you were almost certain – stopped and looked at you, curious and annoyed respectively.

“You guys are Overwatch, aren’t you?”

Silence. Morrison and Genji looked at each other, not saying anything, and then the door burst open. You recognized Tracer immediately.

“You lot wouldn’t believe the time I’ve had of it out there, bunch of bloody rats,” she grumbled and hung up her hoodie to reveal her chronal accelerator. Then she saw you, froze, and smiled sheepishly. 

“Um… heya!” she tried tentatively. “Are you lost?”

“Possibly?” you replied, tired all at once. “You wouldn’t believe it but I’ve been having the strangest day.”

Tracer whirled to face Genji. “What did you do!”

Genji sighed. “Everyone always assumes I did it."

* * *

The situation was explained. You then got to sit by and watch while they bickered and discussed what to do with you. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what the big deal was – It’s not like you had any plans for what to do with yourself either. You half listened and swirled the liquid in your mug. Tracer had fussed with an old kettle and made you a cup of tea from an ancient looking box in one of the cupboards, and apologized that it wouldn’t be very good. But even though it tasted kind of stale, you appreciated her kindness and sipped it anyway. 

There was a break in the conversation. You looked up and all of them were looking at you. Oops, had they asked a question? “Sorry, what was that?”

“What’s your living situation?” Jack repeated gruffly. “You won’t be able to come back here for a while. If that Talon agent recognizes you, you’re in real danger – they’re merciless.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Do you have friends or family out of town where you can lay low for a while?” 

You were shaking your head before he was even finished talking. “I’m homeless,” you explained, tearing up a little as your emotions got the best of you. “H-happened just before Genji came along, I tried everything...” you trailed off as your voice became a little thick, trying not to cry in front of these strangers. 

Tracer made a soft distressed noise and walked over to put her hand on your shoulder. “Aw love, it’s gonna be alright,” she soothed, patting you gently with a small warm hand. You sniffed quietly and she looked at Morrison pleadingly, saying “Maybe we could call Winston? See if there’s anything we can do?” 

“My Master has always taught we should try and help those in need,” Genji murmured. You looked at him, surprised by his support. He nodded at you, continuing, “She helped me when she did not know me and had no reason to do so. I would like to help her in return.”

Jack Morrison looked equal parts annoyed and conflicted, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “Fine, we can call Winston. Is there anything else we should know about your situation?” 

“Um…” You pulled the soft edged carrier towards you and unzipped the top to examine the contents. It’s a wonder she stayed so calm, especially with all the running and jostling. Small mercies, you thought, and pulled a tiny tortoiseshell cat out of the bag. The cat let out a delighted chirrup as you set her on your lap and rubbed her cheek gently.

“Her name is Turtle,” you said nervously, stroking her back. “Will she be a problem?”

Morrison looked a little dumbstruck, Tracer looked like she had just won the lottery, and Genji – well, you couldn't read him at all since you couldn't see his face.

“Oh my god,” Tracer said, delighted. “Can I hold her?”

You smiled and held Turtle out to her. “Sure, she loves people!” She eagerly took the cat and hugged her to her chest, cooing at her in a sweet voice. 

“Tracer, aren’t you allergic to cats?” Morrison asked, exasperated.

Tracer’s muffled voice came from where she was pressing her face into the cat's fur. “Only a little!” She pulled back and sneezed. “Well, maybe more than that.”

* * *

One terse phone call and a white-knuckled car ride later (Lena drove like a true native Londoner), you were en route to Gibraltar on spacious drop ship. Your face was practically pressed against the window, watching the brilliant tapestry of sunset against the city skyline. You were mildly alarmed to discover that Lena would also be flying the plane but Jack informed you that she had been an extremely skilled pilot for many years. He also told you to call him Jack, but he had such an imposing presence that it was almost uncomfortable to call him that.

As the city fell away, you turned around and flopped back into your seat, noticing with some amusement that there was a basketball hoop - you couldn’t imagine anyone on this ship playing basketball to pass the time. Jack had gone up front with Lena and you could barely see him working at a computer. Genji was seated at the table with you on the opposite side of the bench. If you listened, you could hear him breathing. For now, you were working under the assumption that he was human, maybe with prosthetics, though you supposed it didn’t much matter. He hasn’t said anything since take-off, and so you awkwardly searched for something to do.

The shelf behind Genji held a pack of cards and you brightened, carefully reaching around him to grab it. Genji appeared to be meditating and probably wouldn’t want to be bothered. It had been years since you played solitaire with real cards but you thought you remembered how. 

Solitaire with real cards actually felt nicer than the solitaire websites you usually used, and you were quickly engrossed.

A tiny meow came from the carrier on the seat beside you, so you unzipped the top and Turtle poked her head out, staring at you with wide green eyes. “Hi there, tiny kitty,” you whispered, giving her head a rub before turning back to your card game and paused. You… could have sworn that the top card on that stack was a red seven? But it was a black six. Huh. You kept playing.

Turtle climbed onto your lap and you adjusted to let her sit, scratching under her chin with your fingertips. There was a flash at the edge of your vision and you looked up. Okay, that card had definitely been a queen a second ago. You cast a sideways glance at Genji. Was he sitting a little closer than he was before? Oh, you understood now. “You're messing with me,” you said with a laugh, grinning like you hadn’t all day. With a chuckle, Genji opened his hand and tossed a couple sequential cards deftly onto their respective stacks. “It took you long enough to notice,” he teased. You passed the rest of the time playing solitaire, with Genji helping and sabotaging your game in turn.

* * *

With a huff, you fell into your new bed and surveyed the room. Lena and Genji had helped you get your things to your new room, and then left you to it. It felt like a college dorm, very bare bones. A bed, a dresser, a wardrobe, a desk. At least there was a private bathroom. You took a while to unpack and stow your meager belongings. A lot of your stuff had been sold while you were trying to come up with rent and now you regretted it - your room looked barely more inhabited than it was before.

Turtle hopped up onto the bed next to you and you smiled. No matter what, at least you had her. You could make a home anywhere. The tiny tortoiseshell meowed plaintively at you as she crawled across your legs. “I know, baby, I know.” You pet her absentmindedly, drifting off into a nap.

* * *

“Good morning.”

You sat bolt upright from a dead sleep, alarmed as you looked for the source of the voice. Shit, you must have slept through the night! You were starving.

“I am Athena,” the female voice continued in a friendly tone. You noticed it was coming from an electronic panel by the door. “I am the AI that runs the Watchpoint. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to help.” 

“Oh! Um, hello,” you introduced yourself. “I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to be doing, to be honest.”

“You'll be meeting with Winston at 1200 hours,” the voice informed. “I can let you know where breakfast is whenever you’re ready.”

* * *

Today had been strange so far, but not bad. Lena was delighted to see you at breakfast and introduced you to the people that were there. They were all perfectly civil to you, although some were warmer than others. A man named Reinhardt, a gigantic mountain of a man, had declared his pleasure to meet you in a booming voice. You'd met international music icon Lucio which had been thoroughly surreal. Genji had been there and had greeted you kindly, introducing you to his brother Hanzo, who was polite to you but nothing more. 

Lena and Lucio had been kind enough to show you around the Watchpoint. You saw common areas, practice ranges, gardens, kitchens, labs, and so on. It was laid out intuitively but you somehow felt like you would get lost anyway. You met McCree, whose accent and charm had put you at ease, and Hana, whose streaming you had been following for months. 

“I didn’t expect you or Lucio to actually be here,” you confided in them. “I mean, there have been rumors about it, but there have been rumors about so many people!”

“You’d better believe that if there’s an opportunity to make the world better, I’m going to be there!” Hana grinned and punched Lucio on the shoulder. “And you couldn’t keep Lucio away from a good cause if you tried.”

He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “Guilty as charged. If I don’t use my influence to make things better, then what am I doin’, you know?”

As they kept chatting, Lena took you to Winston’s lab. The further you walked, the worse your nerves got. “Hey, you alright there love?” Lena looked concerned.

You let out a whoosh of air and stopped walking for a moment, trying to get your hands to stop shaking. “I just – I don’t know why I’m here,” You admitted. “I’m just some nobody college kid without a place to live. I mean it’s a dream come true to be here! I grew up hearing about Overwatch and now I’m here with it. But…” you sighed. “I don’t have anything to offer. I’m only here because I put myself in danger like an idiot. There are so many people who would be more suited to this place.”

“Hey.” She put her hands on your shoulders, looking at you firmly. “You're not worthless and you’re not stupid. We are gonna get this worked out! Everyone’s got skills, you included.” You looked at her, surprised to hear her so serious about this. “And honestly! Running in to danger to help someone else is practically the Overwatch creed, you’ll fit right in!”

A laugh escaped you at that and your shoulders relaxed some. “Thank you, Lena. I’m sorry to dump that on you like that.” She tugged your arm gently and you started walking again. “Hey, no problem at all!” she replied with a smile. “What're friends for?”

A warm feeling settled in your chest and you smiled from the inside out. 

The two of you came to a stop outside of a wide metal door. “This is you!” she chimed, stepping back. “Don’t you worry love, Winston is a big softie. Gotta run, I’m late for training!” She saluted playfully and blinked away in a flash of blue light. 

Squaring your shoulders, you raised a fist and knocked on the door. It opened and you stepped inside. “Hello?” you called out. The lab was chock full of electronics and mechanical parts, covering all the available surfaces. Strangely, a faint smell of peanut butter permeated the room.

“Back here!” a low voice called from deeper in the room. “Go, uh, left then straight then left.” Gingerly stepping around pieces and parts, you followed the directions and holy shit you'd somehow forgotten that Winston was literally a giant gorilla.

“Hi there!” he pulled himself up from the chair and fuck he was huge. “I’m Winston, as I’m sure you know.” He held out his hand to shake and you took it. The handshake was surprisingly gentle. You introduced yourself, nerves settling back into your gut. 

“Great to meet you! Now, I hope you’re not offended, but I went ahead and did a background search on you, standard procedure.” You nodded, that made sense. “I didn’t find anything to suggest you’re a danger, so no worries there,” he said as he tapped through screens on a datapad. “It says that you’re studying engineering and working towards a degree, and that you’re good at it.” He smiled at you, and you felt yourself relaxing. Lena was right, he was a nice person. Gorilla? Oh, you should probably say something.

“Ah, yeah that’s right,” you replied, tucking some hair behind your ear in habit. “So, I’m very happy to be here, don’t get me wrong, but…. Why am I here?”

“Oh yeah, about that. I actually have a job proposition for you! Of course, you’re welcome to not accept, and then we would work something else out.” At his gesturing, you sat in one of the huge chairs and sat your hands in your lap, willing yourself not to fidget. 

“Since the recall, Overwatch has been getting bigger every day,” he explained, adjusting his glasses. “More and more facilities are coming online and more resources are needed to manage them. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we've got a lot of technology at the Watchpoint.” You nodded, waiting to see where he was going. “Technology is great, but technology also breaks, needs maintenance, needs updates – you get the idea. For now, most of that responsibility falls on me, and well, it’s a lot.” Winston gestured to the chaos of the lab, slightly sheepish. “What I am suggesting is this: I’d like to get you on board as an engineer. I realize you may not have had complete hands-on training, but I’m happy to train you. It would be extremely helpful to have another set of hands on these things.” 

If you weren’t trying to look professional your jaw would have dropped. “A-are you sure I’m the best for this job?” you stammered. “Wouldn’t an experienced engineer be better for this? I mean I would absolutely love to but - ” At that Winston grinned, and you stopped talking as you become aware that you were about to start rambling. 

“Not necessarily. Sure, you don’t have as much experience, but I’m confident that you’ll do an excellent job. Besides, you’re already here, and if you want the job then I’m willing to put in the time to make you a skilled, self-sufficient engineer.” 

From a formidable stack of papers, he withdrew a few forms and handed them to you. “You’ll be paid of course, and you’ll have your own quarters. Honestly, I think you’ll like it here!” You responded to his smile with one of your own as you skimmed the documents. They seemed to be basic hiring papers, so you signed them and handed them back. 

“If it’s not too soon, could you start tomorrow? We have a lot of ground to cover.” 

“I would love to!” you replied excitedly.

* * *

The door to your room slid shut behind you and you flopped onto the bed, muffling a loud excited noise into the pillow. You could hardly believe your luck! With a smile, you had stretched out on the bed, intent on taking a quick nap, when you saw something on your desk. With a groan, you got up to examine it. It looked almost like a cellphone, and there was a note. It read: “grabbed u a communicator from jack! welcome to the club ;) - <3 D.va”. Then there was a drawing of a weird but cute bunny face. You smiled, turning the communicator over in your hands, and decided to forgo the nap. Instead you pulled out your laptop, put on a podcast, and started sending emails. 

To your employer: “I regret to inform you that due to extreme personal circumstances I will no longer be working” blah blah blah. You weren’t sure who to send an email to for your college, but in the end you sent them to the registrar and the dean. As you hit send, you began to have a niggling feeling that something was wrong. You glanced around your room, your eyes landing on Turtle’s water bowl – “Oh god where’s Turtle?”

The small cat had proven herself an escape artist time and time again. When Hana came in Turtle must have slipped around her. Fuck.

“Um, Athena? You there?”

“Good afternoon,” the pleasant voice replied. “Congratulations on your new job.”

“Oh, thanks. Listen, Turtle isn’t here and I’m worried. Would you be able to find out where she went?”

“Possibly. Please wait a moment whole I check the cameras.” A beat passed. “Turtle is on the top floor heading towards roof access at the end of Corridor C. It appears the door is open.”

“Fuck!” You pulled your shoes on quickly and headed for the door. “Thanks Athena you’re the best!”

“You are welcome.” If you didn’t know any better you would say she sounded amused. 

Luckily, you'd found the elevator earlier – you hopped in and mashed the button.

You jogged towards the sign for Corridor C and rounded the corner to see the paintbrush tip of Turtle’s tail slipping through the door frame. “Damn it.” You walked fast to the door, hoping that she wouldn’t do something stupid, like jump off the building. You reached the door and gently nudged it open, momentarily blinding yourself in the bright afternoon sun.

There was a small garden out here, colorful and peaceful and obviously well-tended, a little oasis of beauty and peace amid all the steel and rock of the Watchpoint. Sitting lotus style amid the vibrant plants was an Omnic. The gold and chrome plates of his body gleamed prettily in the daylight, and a set of intricate metal orbs orbited around his neck, making gentle chiming noises as they rotated. You stood still, unsure of how to proceed. The omnic was facing away from you and was obviously meditating, so you hesitated to walk onto the roof. But as you watched, Turtle slunk up beside the omnic and rubbed against him, letting out a chirping meow. 

The omnic stirred, turning to face the cat. “Greetings, little one.” A sonorous, male voice with a metallic tone. “I do not believe we’ve met.” He reached out to her with a slender metallic hand and gave her a gentle pet before reading the tag on her collar. “Turtle, I am happy to make your acquaintance.” Turtle meowed happily and climbed into his lap, and the omnic chuckled. “A lovely creature indeed. Is she yours?”

You froze. Was he talking to you? He hadn’t even turned around! You opened your mouth and then closed it, unsure what to say, if anything.

“Ah, apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.” In one fluid motion, the omnic stood and turned around with a happy Turtle cradled in his arms. “How did you know I was there?” you blurted out without thinking. And then you mentally hit yourself on the forehead at how rude that was. “Um, sorry, I mean –”

“It's quite alright,” he cut you off gently. “I knew you were there because no creature is entirely silent.” He shifted Turtle into one arm and held the other hand out to you. “My name is Zenyatta. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You reached out and took his hand. For a moment, you forgot to shake – the metal wasn’t cool like you were expecting, but was instead warm and smooth. Zenyatta shook your hand, tilting his head towards you kindly as you introduced yourself. “Is this garden yours?” you asked, admiring the plants. “It’s really gorgeous!” 

“I planted it, yes, but I wouldn’t say it’s mine. I wish it to be a haven for anyone to enjoy. Unfortunately, it hasn’t caught on yet - people are too busy to think they have time to relax.” You gave a surprised laugh at that and replied, “I’ve been that person before; so focused on the things I need to do to actually enjoy anything, even things I should enjoy doing.” A plant with clusters of light purple flowers caught your eye and you made an appreciative noise, stepping towards it to brush the soft petals with a finger. 

“It's a type of iberis, I believe.” Zenyatta walked up beside you, standing just close enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. “The native plants here are very unlike the hardy plants of the Himalayas, but beautiful in their differences.”

Very suddenly you noticed and recognized his attire. “Are you a Shambali monk?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I’m not always the most observant.” 

“Formerly a Shambali monk,” he corrected, crouching to remove a withered leaf from the plant with a precise pluck. He was cute in an unfamiliar way, you realized, with Turtle under his arm as he tended the flower with a gentle hand. “Due to a difference in opinion, I parted ways from my brothers to travel the world.” Zenyatta stood up and held Turtle out to you. “It is my belief that the best way to mend the bond between humans and omnics is to form relationships between them, and it is hard to do that in the isolation of the mountains,” he concluded with a hint of humor in his tone. You hadn’t really spent extended amounts of time around omnics and you were struck by how expressive Zenyatta's voice and body language were. Even though you weren’t great at reading people, you found that you could understand what he was conveying pretty clearly.

“That makes sense,” you agreed, cradling Turtle against your chest. “It can be hard to make connections with a subject in a lecture, but if you talk to the professor one-on-one about the material it makes a lot more sense.”

“Precisely,” Zenyatta replied warmly. Turtle meowed and extended a paw to rest against your cheek. You sighed. “I’m sorry about Turtle bothering you. She’s pretty sneaky, got out of my room to go exploring.”

“No need to apologize! I'm very happy to meet you both,” he told you sincerely. “Although, I am curious as to what brought you here. Would you care to sit for a while and talk?” He gestured to a few old folding chairs leaning against the wall, and you were happy to agree. 

Time passed quicker than you realized. You gave him the summary of who you were and what happened, but before you knew it he had skillfully drawn you into a long, pleasant conversation. Inwardly you marveled at how easy he was to talk to, as you could have a hard time talking with someone you barely knew. But his attentive listening and occasional unexpected jokes made you feel more at ease than you had been since arriving here. Eventually, you lapsed into a comfortable silence as you watched the plants wave in the slight breeze. In the warmth of the afternoon your eyes slipped shut and your mind wandered. 

You thought about your old apartment, how comfortable it was and how it felt like home after living there for three years. You thought about the strong smell of espresso as you made lattes and joked with your co-workers at the campus coffee shop. You thought about the tired victories you achieved when you finished assignments at 3 AM, alone in the library. Your life wasn’t perfect, sure, but you had built it from the ground up with blood and sweat and tears. You could never go back, you realized. It sank into your stomach like a rock and you sighed heavily.

“Are you alright?” came the quiet voice from beside you. As a reflex, you threw on a quick smile and responded, “Yeah, I’m alright. Just tired I think.” You felt a little bad for lying but you didn’t think he would appreciate you dumping all your weird emotions onto him. “I think I’ll try and get a nap in before dinner actually,” you said as you gathered a sleeping Turtle into your arms.

“I understand,” Zenyatta replied in a tone you couldn’t quite pin down. Disappointment? The thought gave you a pang in your stomach, but you stood and turned to face him as he rose out of his chair.

“But I really enjoyed spending time with you,” you assured him honestly, a small real smile spreading across your face. “I’d like to do this again – Um, if that’s okay with you?” 

“I would love to.” There was that warmth again. Zenyatta reached out to give Turtle a parting pet, and his hand brushed your arm as it withdrew. You could feel heat where metal had touched your skin as his faceplate turned up to you, static but seemingly smiling nevertheless. 

“Walk in harmony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 12/1/17: killamoth made fanart for this chapter and I am! So! Happy!  
> [The omnic stirred, turning to face the cat](http://killamoth.tumblr.com/post/168099195276/the-omnic-stirred-turning-to-face-the-cat)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glowing golden orb was suspended above your right shoulder, a stream of light connecting it to you. Dumbfounded, you reached out and held it in your hands. It was intricately designed metal, warm to the touch and surrounded by a solid halo of bright light, and you realized that you recognized it.

I've had just about enough  
Of quote, "diamonds in the rough"  
Because my backbone is paper thin  
Get me out of this cavern  
Or I'll cave in

* * *

You startled awake from a deep sleep, the strange dream that woke you already fading from your mind. Gunshots, you thought, and the stark white of a skull grinning at you. Instead of dwelling, you let the images slip through your fingers like sand as you sat up. The fluorescent clock at your bedside proclaimed that it was 4:13 AM. More than three hours until your alarm went off, and worse, you felt wide awake now. It happened every now and then, but usually you would have a cup of chamomile and fall back asleep. 

Fluorescent lights ticked on as you padded quietly through the halls in your pajamas. Luckily you remembered where the kitchen was, and you entered without turning on the overhead light. The moon was nearly full, and enough pale light to see by streamed through a large window. You’d stashed your favorite mug in a cupboard at breakfast yesterday and you pulled it out now. It was a generously sized blue mug with a picture of a cat on it, with the text “I do what I want”. It was silly, sure, but you’d had it since you started college and you loved it. You put the kettle on the stove and went to the pantry to grab a bag of tea before you remembered that you hadn’t brought any. You faltered – would people be okay with you using their stuff? Winston hadn’t mentioned when you’d get paid but you fully intended to buy your own things when you did…

“You may use mine.”

You let out a sound that was almost a shriek before you clamped down on it and whirled around. Hanzo, who you remembered as Genji's brother, was seated at the rickety table in the corner. “I'm sorry, I didn’t see you when I came in…. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you said, your heart slowing down.

Hanzo gave you a nod and turned back to his own cup of tea. “Second shelf.”

You found it. The box was in Japanese so you couldn’t read it, but it smelled like green tea. The kettle began to whistle and you poured the water over the bag. The ceramic of the mug warmed your hands as you approached the table cautiously. “Can I sit with you?” you asked hesitantly. At his nod you sat across from him and turned the chair a little so that you could see through the window. 

The tea was green tea with something sweet that you couldn't quite place, but it was rather nice. At first you considered starting a conversation, but you dismissed that idea – he didn't look like a man who enjoyed small talk. Occasionally you snuck a glance at him. The pale moonlight made him look almost severe, but once you caught him looking at your mug with a small smirk and you had to hide a smile with your hand. He wasn’t exceedingly friendly, sure, but maybe it just took time. 

The silence was comfortable, and you slowly sipped your tea down to the dregs. Without a word, Hanzo took your cup and his to the counter to make more. You were admiring the moon drenched landscape outside when a familiar, acrid smell met your nose. Hanzo walked back over and set down three mugs. He passed you your tea, took his, and set the third mug at a different place. It was instant coffee and you had no idea why he made it. 

But as if summoned by the action, Jesse McCree appeared, fully dressed in his cowboy clothes. Jesse tipped his hat to you with a wink, and then sat down to nurse his coffee. No one spoke, and you had the sudden feeling that you were intruding on something. You nervously kept your eyes down and fidgeted with the string on the teabag, wondering if you should beat a hasty retreat. 

But Jesse looked at you with a reassuring grin that made his eyes crinkle and Hanzo had a ghost of a smile as you caught his eye. You relaxed and continued to sip your tea in the comfortable silence of the early morning, the smells of coffee and tea blending to create a strange scent that you’d associate with a peaceful feeling for the rest of your life.

When you ran out of tea, Jesse gathered the mugs to make the next round, and looked exceedingly smug when he plopped down a steaming mug of instant coffee in front of you. Both you and Hanzo watched as he sat down and leaned back casually, horrified and offended respectively. You took a tentative sip and reflexively made a face – it tasted like hot dirt. Jesse laughed at you and Hanzo rolled his eyes, but eventually you drained the mug with a final gulp. It wasn't so bad once you got used to the taste, you thought. You felt warm from the inside out from the drinks and the company, and the sky had lightened a couple shades when you spoke up.

“I should go get ready,” you said quietly, standing up with your mug. “Thanks for this.” Hanzo nodded smoothly and Jesse tipped his hat at you again with a smile. “Anytime, darlin'.”

As you went back to your room to prepare for the day, you considered the offer. You probably wouldn’t make a habit of getting up before 7, but once or twice a week probably wouldn’t kill you.

* * *

You never choose an engineering focus while you were at school. Instead you elected to sample several of the different focuses offered: mechanical, computer, and material sciences. This was actually useful, as the job you would be doing was a hybrid of several fields. 

“Back in the day, Overwatch had a whole team of engineers with different specializations,” Winston explained as he put cleared off a space for you to work. “But since it’s just you and me, well, we need to learn to be a jack of all engineering trades,” he said with a grin, standing back to evaluate the work station he’d assembled for you. A computer with all of the necessary computing, modelling, and programming software, a bright lamp, blank notebooks with pens and pencils, and a truly harrowing mountain of users’ manuals, textbooks, and diagrams. Winston gestured to the precarious stack sheepishly. “I’m uh, really sorry about this. But these are most of the basic relevant texts pertaining to all the tech we use here.”

With a dawning sense of horror, you completed the thought. “And I need to read… all of these?”

“There’s not a way around it, unfortunately – You’ve got to start from the ground up,” he said sympathetically. “You don’t need to read it word by word, necessarily, but you need to understand.”

You’d never been great at reading textbooks, but you’d be damned if you let this get the better if you now. “I can do it,” you said, more to yourself than to Winston. “It’ll just take some time.”

“That’s alright! Take however long you need,” Winston replied reassuringly. “I have some good news, though. I found a coffee machine that we weren’t using and set it up over there.” It was in the corner, burbling cheerfully as it brewed. “I put some on to test it, have as much as you like! I can’t really drink the stuff,” he confided. “It seriously puts me on edge.”

* * *

Several hours in and you were just about ready to tear your hair out. You’d covered several pages of blank paper in nearly incoherent and rambling notes as you attempted to process and understand a veritable flood of information. It didn’t help that you’d been absentmindedly sipping coffee the entire time, making you jittery and more stressed. 

With a conscious effort you tried to take deep breaths, setting your head in your hands for a second as you tried and failed to calm yourself down. Shit, what had you gotten yourself in to? There was no way you could handle all of this, you just weren’t competent enough. You rubbed your eyes, willing them not to get teary while you were at work.

All of a sudden, a warm peaceful feeling flooded over you like bright sunshine after being cold all day. Like storm clouds being swept away, the negative thoughts that preoccupied you drifted away and you looked up in surprise. 

A glowing golden orb was suspended above your right shoulder, a stream of light connecting it to you. Dumbfounded, you reached out and held it in your hands. It was intricately designed metal, warm to the touch and surrounded by a solid halo of bright light, and you realized that you recognized it. You turned around. 

Winston had left the door open, and standing in the doorway were Genji and Zenyatta. The omnic lifted his hand in a gentle wave and a smile cracked your face as you raised your hand to wave back. Inexplicably you could feel yourself blushing as you noticed the gap in the orbs that orbited his neck. He inclined his head to you and continued on his way. Genji looked from you to Zenyatta and back again, before giving you a cheeky salute and following his master. The orb in your hands gave a gentle tug and you released it, allowing it to settle back above your shoulder, and the peaceful feeling reasserted itself. With determination, you threw yourself back into the work. You paused every now and then to reach out and touch the orb, a tender warm feeling settling into your stomach every time you thought about it.

* * *

Over the next several days, the orb of harmony had found its way to you whenever you began to feel overwhelmed. People had definitely noticed but didn’t make a big deal of it, which led you to think that Zenyatta had done this for people before. But wherever you were - whether you were in the lab or the kitchen or around the grounds - when things started to be too much, the clouds would part and you’d look over to find the bright golden ball hovering gently beside you. Sometimes you would catch a glimpse of Zenyatta, sometimes you wouldn’t. You had absolutely no idea how he was doing this or why it worked, but you appreciated it and it made you feel better to think that he cared enough to help. 

One evening found you in the dining area with books spread out in front of you, working well past dinner. Jack was reading a thick stack of files in the corner, but besides a curt nod of greeting he didn’t acknowledge you. Your eyes began to glaze over as you read the same set of equations for the fifteenth time without understanding them. In frustration, you scribbled over several lines of incorrect notes, then exhaled in an angry huff as the pencil lead snapped. Suddenly the air hummed and a wave of calmness washed over you, heralding the arrival of the orb of harmony over your shoulder. You took a deep breath in as your tense muscles relaxed and you set the pencil down.

Jack was stating at you with a strange expression and you blinked. “What?”

“I’ve seen that thing on you a lot lately,” Jack replied, returning his gaze to the dense text of the report he was reading. “More than I’ve seen it on anyone outside of a mission.”

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously. Gently, you pulled the orb in front of you, rubbing your thumbs over the ridges on the metal. “I mean, it calms me down but I’m not exactly sure what it does.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at you. “You don’t know?” You shook your head no, and he said, “It fixes people. Gunshots, broken bones, you name it. Definitely saved my ass a few times with it too.”

You were surprised – if this thing was so important, why did Zenyatta keep giving it to you? The engineer inside of you had to ask, “Do you know how it works?”

Jack let out a huff of a laugh and tossed you something from a belt compartment. You scrambled to catch it with the tips of your fingers – it was a metal cylinder, cool and weighty in your grip. “That’s a biotic emitter,” he informed. “I’m not 100 percent on how it works, but Angela can tell you exactly how it functions and why. But I’ve got no clue how Zenyatta's kit works. Might as well be magic, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he finished gruffly. 

Jack stood up and gathered his stuff. “It’s late, kid. Get to bed.” You could hear his boots going down the hall, and though you were indignant at being called a kid, you realized that maybe Jack was cared about you as well, just in his own way. The biotic emitter was surprisingly heavy in your hand as you looked it over, touched by the gesture.

* * *

It was well past midnight and you still couldn’t sleep. The orb of harmony was still with you, and although it made you calm, it couldn’t make you tired. So, you kept working; you were so ready to get to the part of the job where you could actually do things. Turtle was a welcome weight in your lap as she snoozed, and you envied how easily sleep came to her.

A metallic ping sounded from the direction of the door. You startled and looked to see what it was, and were surprised to see the orb of harmony tapping against the inside of the door. This made sense, you supposed. You’d never noticed it retreating to its owner - you usually just looked up at some point to notice that it had left. After depositing your cat onto the bed, you went to open the door. It slid open with a smooth noise and oh, that was Zenyatta in front of your door. And – 

“You’re… floating.”

“So I am,” he replied, his resonant voice warm with amusement. Zenyatta was hovering in a seated position a few feet off the floor, hands folded in front of him. The goldenrod fabric of his robes draped towards the floor and the cord around his waist nearly skimmed the floor. “If you can float, why walk anywhere?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“I prefer to walk, as it makes me feel more grounded and connected to the world. However, this option is preferably quieter this late at night.” Zenyatta held out a hand, and as orb floated gently to him, its bright glow faded. With a small motion, it resumed its gentle orbit with its companions. “Would you care to come keep me company? I find myself restless tonight, and I thought you might like to join me.”

Thump, thump. “I would like that,” you managed, realizing you stood in front of him in your most worn pajamas and without a bra. “Just give me a second?”

“There is certainly no rush.”

* * *

You followed him through the halls, taking the time to look over him. Zenyatta looked a lot like other omnics you had seen, but slighter and with much less protective plating. He was surprisingly tall on his feet, but not at all broad. A large amount of his inner architecture was open to the world; if you wanted, you could reach out a hand and brush pistons and actuators, feel them move as he did. The thought sent a strange, hot shiver through your chest, and you hastily put that thought away for later inspection. You didn’t know how exactly he was floating, and you weren’t sure whether it was rude to ask.

To your surprise, you walked through doorway to find yourself in a large gymnasium. “Well, this isn’t what I was expecting, to be honest. Please tell me you didn’t bring me here for exercise?” you laughed, a little nervous. 

“I assure you that I did not.” His tone intimated a smile and you relaxed. “Genji and I have a space set up here that I think you would enjoy.” Before leading you to the space, he unfolded his crossed legs and set them gently to the floor. You followed the soft tap of his wooden sandals against the tiles to an unremarkable door, and entered as Zenyatta held it open. 

The room was lit by soft light from pillar candles and positively covered in cushions and pillows in shades of blue and purple. The faint smell of incense drifted to you and you exhaled, letting a little tension out of your shoulders that you hadn’t realized was there. “Oh, it’s so nice in here. How did I not know about it?”

“I’m glad you like it.” A metal hand brushed your shoulder as Zenyatta moved around you, and the light touch burned through your shirt to have a disproportionate effect on your heartbeat. Zenyatta pulled a blue cushion out of a stack and folded deliberately onto it, gesturing for you to do the same. You chose the biggest, fluffiest pillow you could see and flopped into a seated position. 

“I would guess,” he began quietly, “that you didn’t know about this place because you’ve dedicated yourself so thoroughly to your work for the past week.” 

“A week?” Oh god it had been a week, you’d hardly noticed. “Oh, I’m not nearly as far along as I wanted to be in a week…”

“That’s what I’m referring to.” His voice was almost sharp, and you winced. “Forgive me for saying this, but you have not been taking care of yourself. You look tired every day, and you work long into the night. This is not sustainable,” he finished, his tone growing softer as he continued. 

Guilt crept through you and you looked down to start fidgeting with a seam on the pillow. “I’m just… so scared that I’ll mess this up,” you mumbled, struggling to find the words as your shoulders slumped. “I’ll be more useful to everyone once I can actually get to fixing things, so I’m just trying to be through all of the texts as fast as I can.”

“Winston and the others would not want you to succeed at the cost of your health and wellbeing.” As he spoke, Zenyatta pulled his cushion to a place beside yours, sat, and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I am not sure whether you’ve noticed, but people are worrying about you. Myself included, but I assume you noticed that.” With a small flick of his hand, Zenyatta pulled an orb out of its orbit and extended it to you. As you took it, it began to glow golden and become warm in your palms.

“I haven’t noticed it,” you admitted, turning the ball over in your hands. “I didn’t think people would worry about someone who’s almost a stranger.” 

“They worry regardless. There are many here who would like to be your friend, but you haven’t been making it easy for them.” He was definitely teasing you now, and you smiled sheepishly. The orb of harmony shone more dimly than usual, just a muted glow like that of the candles around you. Instead of the encompassing peaceful feeling you were used to, it just felt like you had your hands submerged in warm water. You remembered something.

“Jack mentioned,” you began hesitantly, “that you can use this to heal physical things. Wounds. If it’s so powerful, why are you keeping it on me so often?” 

Zenyatta tilted his head in acknowledgement and was silent for a long moment. Finally he responded, “I have the ability to sense the inner struggles of others. I’m grateful for the skill, as it means I can often help others find balance. I would liken sensing it to feeling vibrations in the air; in most, it is unnoticeable unless I choose to focus on it.” The orbs around his neck blossomed outward, then fell back in around his neck, spinning gently. Almost like he had taken a deep breath, you thought absently. “The disquiet inside of you, in the other hand, is exceptionally loud.”

At that, the guilt grew stronger and you could feel your cheeks getting hot with embarrassment. “So, it just projects across the entire Watchpoint?” you asked, a little horrified. “Having to deal with my emotional bullshit like that all day must be so annoying. I’m really sorry.”

“Your emotions and struggles are not insignificant or annoying,” Zenyatta chided you gently, folding his hands across his lap and regarding you. “In truth, I am not sure what it means, as it has never happened before.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted on reflex.

“It truly is not your fault. However, know this.” Zenyatta inclined his head and the orb of harmony in your grasp lit up like a beacon, warming you from the inside out. “I can heal damaged skin, mend broken bones, and repair torn muscles,” The orb in your hand stopped glowing and settled gently into your palm. “But for what exists in your mind, the orb of harmony is but a weak painkiller.” 

The statement hit you like a blow and unexpectedly you began to tear up. You hid your face with your hands to keep him from seeing you cry. “Fuck,” you managed, swallowing a sob. “I don’t know why I'm crying, I-I'm – “ 

“Do not apologize for how you feel.” A metal hand encircled your wrist and gently tugged your hand away from your face. Zenyatta was kneeling in front of you now and you let out a big undignified sniffle as you averted your gaze in embarrassment. “Oh, dear,” he said sympathetically, and then you were wrapped up in a close embrace, warm arms gathering you up against his front. You hiccupped in surprise against his shoulder, and Zenyatta said your name quietly, reverently as he rubbed circles into your back. Another sob shocked out of you, and for a long time you just cried, your hands fisted in the in the back of his robes. The crook of his neck and shoulder was surprisingly comfortable – a little angular, sure, but everything came together such that you could rest your head against him as you tried to calm down and catch your breath. Even when the sobbing stopped, Zenyatta still held you and eventually the tension drained out of you; you felt blessedly empty for the first time all week, if a little tired. You tightened your grip around his middle, feeling so safe and comfortable in his arms.

“I do not know why you are different, but I believe that everything happens for a reason. Even if the reason does not make itself known.” You could feel a faint vibration against your cheek as he spoke. “I wish to help you find balance, if you will have me. You only need to ask.”

For a moment, you were quiet as you considered the offer. But only for a moment. “Please, help me?” Your voice was soft and scratchy from crying, and your heartbeat was solid in your throat.

Zenyatta's response was immediate and firm. “In any way that I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one! I know, no one wants to read a mountain of engineering texts, but I promise that you'll be done with it by the end of next chapter.
> 
> Please keep letting me know what you think! I'll do my best to have the next chapter out soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next couple days felt normal. On day three, however, things took a turn.

Take a moment, remind yourself  
To take a moment and find yourself  
Take a moment and ask yourself  
If this is how we fall apart

* * *

The shrill blare of your alarm wrenched you awake, and with a groan you rolled over to slap the stupid contraption. Of course, it didn’t work – the slap was just because you didn’t much care to leave your warm bed. You clicked the switch to off and the beast went quiet. Gently, you nudged Turtle off you and sat up, your spine giving a couple clicks of protest as you straightened. You had an appointment with Angela this morning, a physical which you assumed was standard for Overwatch employees.

Faint sunlight fell in through the window as day broke and you extended your hand to grab your pill minder. You popped open the compartment for today – empty. Puzzled, you opened all of the compartments and again found nothing. With a sneaking suspicion, you checked the pill bottle in your end table. Just as you suspected, all gone. A quiet sense of dread made itself comfortable in your stomach. You hadn’t thought to plan for this eventuality, and now that you were here, you weren’t quite sure what to do. At a loss, you decided to just get up and begin your day.

* * *

In all honesty, you weren’t a fan of doctor visits, but you endured it nevertheless. The poking and pressing, the cold stethoscope, the urine sample, the blood sample. The blood sample had you nervous, as in the past doctors would occasionally miss the vein, but Angela hit the vein expertly on her first time. Between questions about your lifestyle and medical conditions, she kept up a pleasant chatter.

“It will be great to have you helping Winston,” she said cheerfully as she capped and labelled your blood sample. “I can tell that he has been exhausted, trying to keep up with every little thing that goes wrong. No matter how many times I tell him that he needs to get a full eight hours of sleep to stay healthy, I still see light coming out of his lab at all hours of the night.”

“So, does that mean you’re also awake at all hours of the night?” you teased, obediently extending your arm for the bandage. You had met Angela on your third day and you immediately liked her – she was obviously extremely skilled and didn’t put up with any nonsense, but at the same time she was approachable and witty. 

“Oh, hush now,” she replied amicably, shooting you a mischievous smile. “Now, go ahead and get dressed, I will run this and be back in a moment.”

As she left, you shed your flimsy hospital gown and pulled on your clothes, blocking out the chill of the clinic room. It looked remarkably like any other clinic room you’d been in, with a few notable exceptions of intricate equipment with unknown function. You resolved to ask her about how it all worked sometime; it wouldn’t hurt to be able to repair medical equipment, especially the specialized biotech that Overwatch used. 

Angela knocked and then entered, a pair of reading glasses on her nose as she perused her clipboard. “Everything seems to be working just fine,” she assured in her bright Swiss accent. “Everything is within normal range with your blood, your heart and lungs seem fine, and I didn’t encounter anything strange in the physical examination. However,” she fixed you with a steely gaze over her spectacles, “You need to eat better. I can give you some resources that will inform your diet, and I expect that you at least get the necessary nutrients and vitamins that you need every day.”

You winced and rubbed your arm. She was right, college had definitely not been a good environment for eating well. There had been spans of days where most of your diet was instant noodles. “I understand,” you replied sheepishly, and accepted the proffered pamphlets and resource sheets. 

Her expression softened and she gave you a smile. “Well, that about wraps things up!” As she placed her glasses into the pocket of her lab coat, she continued, “Unless you have anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Briefly, you considered. You thought about the empty bottle of antidepressants in your bedside table and wondered whether she even dealt with anything like that. “No, I think that’s it,” you said, unsure of why you were lying even as you did it.

* * *

The next couple days felt normal. You and Zenyatta had worked out an arrangement: whenever you began to feel overwhelmed, you would find him and talk about what was wrong for a few minutes, or if you didn’t want to talk, just quietly inhabit the same space. Initially you had trouble doing this, but it was easy for him to hold you accountable since he could sense you getting upset from across the Watchpoint.

Unexpectedly, it worked wonders. The omnic seemed to always know what to say, and you were getting better about not letting your negative thoughts consume you. As he had told you the first time you went to him after the agreement, “It is normal to have doubt. But when you let it plague your mind, you begin to lose yourself in a sea of self-defeating thoughts that turn into self-defeating behaviors.” 

With his help, you began to recognize when your thoughts were taking a turn and try to divert it. This didn’t work all the time – you’d say about half – but since the alternative was spending time with Zenyatta, well, you didn’t much mind. You were becoming increasingly fond of him; no matter how deep you were, he always found a way to make you smile. 

On day three, however, things took a turn. You woke up with a dull, persistent headache, and periodically you’d get uncomfortable muscle twitches. Both of these things dulled in comparison to the extreme mental fog you were experiencing. Sometimes you had trouble focusing, but this was nothing like that. Everything felt like it was behind a pane of glass – you had trouble paying attention and concentrating for any amount of time, and worse, your negative thoughts were a constant undercurrent in your mind. 

Winston was off doing repairs on a ship in the hangars, so you had the lab to yourself today. You were on your second cup of coffee in an hour, and to your disappointment, it wasn’t helping you focus on your work. There was only about a quarter of the material left, but when you tried to read, all you saw were letters and words that didn’t form sentences or ideas. When you looked up, it was almost noon – shit. With a huff of frustration, you put your head in your arms and tried to clear your thoughts. It didn’t work, but it was nice to not have to look at the text for a moment. 

Distantly, you heard the tap of wood against metal getting closer and closer, until it stopped next to you. There was a hand on your shoulder and you looked up to see Zenyatta. You weren’t sure how you knew, but even through your fog you could tell he was worried. 

“Something is wrong.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, watching your hands shake as another muscle twitch shot through you. “I did something stupid, I think. Not the first time that’s happened though.” You gave a wry laugh and Zenyatta squeezed your shoulder near imperceptibly in response. 

“Please do not put yourself down.” His voice sounded sad, and you immediately felt guilty that you had been the cause of it. You allowed him to help you up and lead you through the halls, recognizing the path to the rooftop garden part way through. Zenyatta put out a folding chair for you and you sat, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the light. “Would you mind waiting here for a second?” You nodded, and Zenyatta left, walking faster than you’d seen him go before. 

The warm afternoon sun sank into your skin, welcome as it dissolved the chill of the engineering lab. You closed your eyes and pretended to be a normal adult human being for a couple minutes, your mind clearing up a little now that you were outside. 

Zenyatta returned and you opened your eyes as he placed a soft, familiar weight onto your lap. “Oh, hey Turtle kitty.” Turtle meowed happily at you and stretched up to rub her cheek against your face, and a small smile found its way to your face. As you scritched under her chin, Zenyatta made a pleased noise and then passed you your water bottle. Suddenly, you realized you were thirsty; you hadn’t had any water since yesterday. You drank a majority of the bottle as Zenyatta set up a chair beside you, and you noted with pleasant surprise that your headache dulled somewhat.

“So,” you began wryly, “does the lock on my door actually keep people out, or does it just make me feel better?” 

“Athena is understanding of special circumstances. I would not abuse your trust to do something unimportant.” It was quiet for a few minutes as Zenyatta gave you time to adjust. The distant sounds of birds and crashing waves were a pleasant backdrop to the quiet afternoon, and the flowers of the plants were bright and healthy as they bobbed in the breeze. Turtle settled down onto your legs, her purring a soothing, quiet noise. Finally, he spoke. “Would you mind sharing your troubles with me? A burden is easier to shoulder when shared.”

You sighed, annoyed that your problem was completely self inflected and preventable. “I ran out of my medication.”

“Medication?” Zenyatta seemed startled by that answer. “Do you have an illness?”

“Not a physical one.” You looked down at your hands, unsure why you felt ashamed. Zenyatta was quiet, and then made a soft noise of understanding. 

“An ailment of the mind.”

“Yeah,” you said in a small voice, focusing on petting Turtle as she purred on your lap. “Depression. I’ve been on medication for a while, but I ran out a few days ago.” A thin cloud moved in front of the sun, softening the light and making the air a bit cooler. “The thing is, I had the chance to tell Angela and potentially get it fixed. But I didn’t and I don’t know why.”

Zenyatta considered this, head tilted towards you thoughtfully. Finally, he asked, “Do you feel ashamed of your depression? Or perhaps you worry that you will disappoint your colleagues by having it?” 

You felt a resounding pang in your chest as he hit the nail on the head. “The second one sounds right. Like, they hired me expecting a normal, functional person who could do a job well, but instead they got… well, me.” 

“Anyone would be lucky to have you, regardless of anything that afflicts you,” Zenyatta responded emphatically, leaning forward to place his hand over yours. The small touch made your heartbeat stutter, and you could feel yourself beginning to blush across your cheeks. 

“…I should go talk to Angela, shouldn’t I?”

“In my opinion, yes.”

“I feel kinda dumb, crawling back to her to fix this problem that I could've completely prevented three days ago.”

“Would it make you feel better if I came with you?” 

“… yes, please.”

“I am happy to help,” he assured you kindly. Warm metal fingers curled around your hand and Zenyatta pulled you to your feet, standing close enough that you could lean your head forward and touch your forehead to his if you wanted to. The thought made your breath catch in your throat. Zenyatta stepped away towards the door and - oh god - he wasn’t letting go of your hand as he gently tugged to keep you moving. 

You stopped by your room to drop off Turtle, and while you were inside you took a moment to try and breathe. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were a shade of bright pink, to your chagrin. “What is going on?” you breathed, placing a finger to your pulse to feel it beat like birds’ wings. 

“Are you okay?” Zenyatta’s voice came through the door and you started, realizing that you’d been standing there for a while. 

You came out hurriedly and shut the door behind you, giving a reassuring smile as you said, “Sorry, just got distracted for a second.”

“That is quite alright.” Zenyatta reached out and took your hand again and you felt like you could spontaneously combust, and that was before he laced his fingers with yours. The two of you made the journey in silence, your thoughts running wild and your pulse high in your throat. Every now and then his thumb would stroke the back of your hand, and every time your heart would skip a beat. Before you knew it, you were standing in front of the clinic, loathe to go through the door. 

“I should probably go in alone, right?” Your voice came out quiet, and you felt a strange combination of nervous to go in and unwilling to release the solid weight of Zenyatta's hand in yours. 

“In the interest of doctor-patient confidentiality, I think that would be wise.” Zenyatta said apologetically.

Still, he didn’t release your hand, and shyly you asked, “Could you wait for me?” 

“Of course I will.” His voice was fond and warm, and it sent electricity straight down your spine and into your belly. You released his hand and straightened your shoulders, took a breath, and entered the clinic. 

Angela was at the computer and looked up as you came in. She said your name in a pleased tone, remarking, “What a surprise, I wasn’t expecting to see you today! Is there something wrong?”

“I have clinical depression.”

Her gaze softened, and she pulled out a chair for you to sit. “Ah, I understand. Do not worry – you are hardly alone here in that regard. Let’s get you set up with the right resources, shall we?”

* * *

The antidepressant withdrawal symptoms went away shortly after you started to take the medicine again, much to your relief. You threw yourself back into your work, blazing through texts quickly and efficiently. When you had time, you allowed yourself to think about the situation with Zenyatta. You were sure that he wasn’t flirting, because why would he be? More concerning to you were your reactions and feelings: every time he crossed your mind, your chest got warm. When you conversed and spent time with him, you found yourself blushing too easily. And whenever he touched you, always innocuous, your stomach would flip and your pulse would start to race. 

In all honesty, you were frustrated with yourself. Here was someone who you could be excellent friends with, who cared about you and wanted to help, and you had to go and catch feelings for him. Zenyatta was just so kind and understanding, and you weren’t used to it at all – you didn’t have much spare time to get attached to people while you were in school. You didn’t want to ruin this friendship because you were so unused to positive attention that you got a crush. So, you continued business as normal; you went to Zenyatta when you started to feel upset and kept your messy feelings to yourself.

* * *

A grin started to form on your face as you flipped to the last page of the text you were reading. You penciled the last line of notes in a flourish, and gathered your books to head to Winston’s station. With a thump, you set the large stack down beside him, and he looked up from his work on a bit of machinery with surprise. At your triumphant expression, he matched your grin with one of his own. “Finished, huh?” he guessed, acknowledging the mountain of material by his side.

“Yeah! Well, finally.” You fell into a chair next to his, eager to move on. “I’m sorry that it took so long.”

“Long? Not at all! It was a lot of reading, and you actually finished sooner than I expected.” Winston looked you over thoughtfully, noting the dark circles under your eyes. “You know, I think you deserve a break after that. Why don’t you take the rest of the day, and we can start fresh tomorrow?”

You blinked in surprise – it was barely noon. “Wait, what? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” he informed in a tone that couldn’t be argued with. “Go recharge, have some fun. Don’t worry,” Winston clapped you on the shoulder, “you’re doing great!”

* * *

You had no idea what to do with yourself now. It was amazing to have the day off and you were grateful, but you weren’t sure what there was to do around here today. Looking at signs for doors and hallways, you retraced your steps to a recreation room you had seen during your initial tour of the Watchpoint. Electronic music drifted through the air as you crossed through the doorway, and you were greeting by someone shouting your name excitedly. 

“Man, I haven’t seen you around in a while! I was starting to think you'd forgotten about us.” Lúcio grinned up at you from a beanbag chair, visibly happy to see you. “You gotta help me, Hana is absolutely smoking me at this game!” He gestured to the racing game on the screen, and Hana gave you a smirk from where she was curled up in an armchair. 

“He knew what he was getting into – I always play to win!” Lúcio gave an exaggerated groan and flopped over dramatically, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Come on, you want to play with us? I can’t wait to see if you’re any better at it than this guy – he keeps losing to the CPUs,” she coaxed, holding a controller out to you and wiggling it enticingly. 

“Yeah, if you guys don't mind, that sounds fun!” You pulled up a beanbag chair and joined the game.

Hana kicked your ass thoroughly, as expected, but you were delighted to discover that you were better at video games than a literal international pop music icon. (“You were supposed to be on my side!” he cried out in mock distress as you finished second place to his eighth.) You lost track of time, switching from the racing game to an arena fighting game to a first-person shooter. 

“I’ve seen you literally shoot your sonic amplifier in a fight, why are you so bad at this?” Hana taunted Lúcio as she killed every zombie in sight before he could get one. You stifled a laugh as he spluttered.

“Hey, by the way, are you coming to movie night tonight?” Lúcio asked you, setting down his controller to stretch out his shoulders. 

“Movie night? I didn’t know that there was one.” 

Hana gave you a look. “I got you that communicator for a reason, you know.”

“Oh!” You’d completely forgotten about that thing. “I’m sorry, I need to start carrying it with me. I really appreciate you getting it for me, by the way.” Hana gave you a playful nudge as she stood up to grab a soda from the mini-fridge. “Anyway, it sounds like fun! What’s the movie?” 

“It's Jesse's turn to pick, so probably some dumb old cowboy movie.” Hana laughed as she tossed Lúcio a can, and then you. Startled, you missed it and it hit you in the chest. 

“Cat-like reflexes you got there!” Lúcio laughed at you, and you stuck your tongue out at him in response. He continued, “Anyway, it’s fun to heckle those flicks, you should come.”

A grin spread across your face as you considered. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll be there.”

* * *

That evening found you sitting on an old couch in the back of a larger recreation room, chatting with Lena who was sitting on the floor. The room was packed with chairs and pillows and beanbags, some of which had been taken from other places to accommodate everyone. The smell of a ridiculous amount of popcorn drifted through the space, the nearest bowl sitting on the ground between you and Lena. It had taken Reinhardt quite a while to make all of it, but he had taken to the task joyously.

“Her name's Emily, and she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” Lena was talking animatedly about her girlfriend, and it was adorable how in love with her she was. “Don't get to see her too often, mind you, but she’s brilliant and I miss her.” 

“She sounds amazing!” you encouraged her with a smile, accepting Lena's communicator to look at a picture of Emily. Emily was a gorgeous girl, with bright red hair and freckles. “Wow, she’s beautiful!” you exclaimed. Lena's answering smile lit up her face.

“Excuse me,” came a polite, familiar voice, “May we sit with you?” You looked up to see Genji and Zenyatta, and you brightened. 

“Yeah, go ahead!” you replied, scooting over obligingly to make room. Zenyatta sat down close next to you to give Genji room to sit on his other side – It wasn’t a big couch, after all. 

You watched Jesse swagger up to the screen and put in a disk. “Hanzo, be a peach and kill the light, would ya?” he called out as the intro credits started rolling. Hanzo rolled his eyes at that but clicked the light off, and the soft light of the screen suffused the room. A collective groan sounded as an extremely old black and white western began. “Aw, hush now, it’s a classic.” Jesse laughed and plopped down beside Hanzo on the bench.

You watched the movie, more amused by the constant snarky commentary from Lena, Hana, and Lúcio than you were by the film itself. Even Jack dropped a couple of exasperated remarks, each one shocking an amused snort out of you.

At length, you became acutely aware of the fact that Zenyatta's leg was in contact with your outer thigh. You felt like a teenager as the slight, innocent touch made your hard beat harder. An unexpected gunshot in the movie made you jump a little, which ended with you a little closer to him than you were. 

This is ridiculous, you told yourself, you’re a grown ass adult! He isn’t sitting here freaking out about your leg touching his leg. He’s watching the movie like a normal person. 

There was another gunshot, this one louder, and you weren't the only one that jumped this time. However, you were the only one who now had Zenyatta's hand on your knee, rubbing it in a manner that was probably meant to be soothing. Instead, it sent waves of heat up your leg and into your belly and your neck began to flush. You sucked in a surprised breath, and in response Zenyatta gently took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. Chancing a look, you glanced over to him and saw that his face was turned towards you, illuminated by the soft blue lights of the array on his forehead. His head tilted amiably towards you, and he turned back to the screen, leaving you flustered, confused, and blushing.

In the faint light of the screen, you could see Lena looking at your joined hands in surprise. With a saucy grin, she looked at you and waggled her eyebrows. Not a word, you mouthed at her. Not a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember guys, if you gotta go off antidepressants, do it gradually. Withdrawal isn't fun. Also, take care of yourself! I'm rooting for you!
> 
> I hope you're still on board, because the next update may take a little longer due to fun college crunch time. I will do my best though, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The original premise of the holiday is nonsense,” Reinhardt acknowledged, “but any excuse for food and fellowship is good enough for me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the delay in posting this, college got a little crazy. Anyway, hope all is well, and mind the rating change!

* * *

I swear when I grow up, I won't just buy you a rose.  
I will buy the flower shop, and you will never be lonely.

* * *

The first time that you touched yourself while thinking of Zenyatta, it was almost an accident. 

You slipped out of the dream with a jolt, the tail end of a whine slipping from your mouth as the dream faded and your eyes opened. It was too early in the morning to wake up entirely or to even think – you burned with arousal, and you slid a hand between your legs to find yourself soaked. Without shrugging off the vestiges of sleep, you kicked off your pajama pants and tugged up your shirt to expose your breasts, the relative chill of the room pulling some heat away from the exposed skin. 

Half recalled images of the dream drifted in your mind as you found your clit with sleepy fingers and stroked, the resulting surge of pleasure making the muscles in your thighs twitch as all the breath left your lungs in a sharp exhale. You pleasured yourself unhurriedly in sweet, short movements, allowing the heat between your legs to smolder and catch. 

As the images in your fantasy began to fade, your near-dreaming mind was eager to begin filling in the blanks. Ghosts of touches grew firm with the addition of slender metal hands, cool against your overheated flesh as they roamed your body. Smooth, attentive fingertips traced the outline of your sex and pressed gently against your clit, circling it with careful motions. The feeling of a warm metallic frame pressed to your back as another hand slid up your front to knead a breast, brushing and pinching the nipple there with clever digits. And his voice, his reverent, resonant voice in your ear, murmuring praises and promises and encouragement as he held you fast against him with freely given pleasure and worshipful hands. 

You luxuriated in this fantasy for a while, easily imagining the patient pace of his hands learning your body and the things he would tell you in the time between night and morning, borderline indecent in their candor and devotion. Your orgasm was slow and strong, moving through you in waves as you gave a quiet cry of Zenyatta's name. In your mind, you could hear the quiet adoration of Zenyatta saying yours. The dream faded around you, and you sank back into sleep.

When you woke up in the morning and remembered what happened, you knew you should probably feel ashamed, but you didn’t. You reasoned that it made sense, it was hard to control where your mind wandered when you were barely awake.

You did not, however, have an excuse for any of the subsequent times.

* * *

A couple weeks had passed since you began your hands-on education with Winston. To your delight, you found that you were a pretty quick study, although you largely attributed that to Winston’s skill as a teacher. He was endlessly patient and had the remarkable ability to explain anything in a way that you could understand. Once you had enough experience identifying the functions and mechanics of various parts and systems, you were able to puzzle out and complete most simple fixes, and at least make some headway with the more complicated ones.

He was nothing if not encouraging and never seemed upset when there was something you didn’t understand or know how to do. “Most of this stuff can only be learned by doing, you know?” he had told you as he completed a repair that you had started. “Knowledge builds over time, as you’re exposed to different problems and systems and the like. Although to be honest, you’re catching on a lot quicker than a lot of the new engineers did back in the day,” he laughed, shooting you a conspiratorial wink. 

“Thank you!” you chirped, taking the fixed part and setting to work reassembling the control panel that it had come from. With a watchful eye, Winston made sure that everything ended up where it was supposed to, and gave a satisfied nod when it came together correctly. 

“Speaking of learning by doing,” Winston hummed as he tapped something out in his datapad and hit send. You felt your communicator buzz in your pocket. “I just sent you a list of simple repairs that need done around the Watchpoint,” he explained as you pulled up the memo he sent you. “Should all be pretty easy for you, but don’t be nervous to shoot me a message if you have questions. While you’re fixing things, get a good look around the systems and try to figure out how it all works and connects.” 

A little swell of pride at his trust in you bloomed in your chest. “Sure! Um, thanks again, by the way. For helping me and giving me a place to stay.” You hoped your gratitude was evident in your speech and actions, but it never hurt to remind him. When you started working towards your degree, you’d never imagined that this would be where you’d end up, but you were thrilled that you were here.

Winston's expression softened. “Again, we're happy to have you here,” he told you earnestly. He shooed you playfully. “Now go on and start working on that list; there’s plenty more where that came from!”

* * *

That evening, after spending a couple hours tossing and turning, you decided to go and see if Hanzo or Jesse were hanging around the kitchen. Your slippers made no sound against the cold floors as you made your way to the kitchen, careful to avoid waking anyone. As you approached the kitchen, a whispered conversation made you slow and stop; they didn’t usually talk. The words weren’t loud enough for you to figure out who was talking, so you quietly walked up to the door and peeked through to see what was going on. 

Jesse and Hanzo sat next to each other at the table, facing away from the door and very intent in their conversation. You still couldn’t discern words, but as you listened you heard Jesse say something and Hanzo laughed in response. That shocked you - you hadn’t heard him laugh since you began living here. Very suddenly you noticed something even more surprising – they were holding hands, fingers tangled together on the scratched wood of the table. 

A small smile creeped on to your face. Okay, that was actually adorable and you were really, truly happy for them. However, that did mean that there would be no tea tonight, as you would hate to interrupt their date. Jesse reached out to brush some hair away from Hanzo’s face, and you left to give them privacy. On an impulse, you headed for the door that led outside and swung it open. A wave of cool air swept in, grounding and refreshing you.

“Do you need any assistance?” Athena's voice emanated from a nearby intercom and you were startled by the sudden noise.

“No, I’m alright!” you replied quickly. “I’m just going out for some fresh air, I won’t be long.”

“I understand. Please be careful.” The light on the intercom switched off, and you stepped out into the night breeze.

The moon was a thin crescent slice in the sky, allowing you to see multitudes of stars out over the ocean. A red light pulsed intermittently atop the communications tower, and without much thought you turned your feet towards it. You began to climb a narrow set of stairs to the top, giving all the equipment a curious once over as you ascended. The chill was stronger as you emerged onto the top floor, a little winded from the climb. The sight of a chrome figure with green running lights in a corner of your vision made you jump and turn around. 

Genji was silhouetted by the dim outside light from his position on the window sill, and you could feel his eyes on you. “Oh, hey,” you managed, calming down. “I didn’t know you’d be up here, I can go if you’re trying to get some time alone.”

“No, please stay. I have been meaning to talk with you.” He gestured at a desk chair in the corner, and you rolled it over to him and sat down.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” you mentioned as you absentmindedly rolled the chair back and forth with your feet.

Genji tilted his head and regarded you. “I was away on a recon mission with Jack. Did you not notice?”

“What? I completely didn’t notice, and now I feel like a bad friend.” You pressed your hand to your forehead in mock despair and Genji chuckled in response. Something occurred to you.

“Hey, Genji?”

“Hm?”

“What were you guys doing in the city when I met you?” 

Genji was quiet for a moment, but eventually responded. “What do you know about Talon?”

You blinked in surprise. “About as much as anyone else, which is to say not a lot. Wait – is Talon there? Are people in danger?” 

“I am not sure how much you are supposed to know about the current situation,” Genji mused, “but as I have not been told to withhold information, I will share some of what I know.”

You paid rapt attention as Genji got you up to speed on the situation. How Talon had gone active just before the recall went out, how they were attempting to stymy Overwatch activities at every turn, and how they seemed determined to throw the world back into chaos. When he finished talking, the two of you sat in silence as you pondered the information, a prickling feeling of dread creeping over your skin.

“We had noticed increased Talon activity where you were, and so we went in to investigate – low profile.” Genji gave a hollow laugh. “It was not to be. We were able to retrieve some critical intelligence, but were discovered before we could get everything. During the escape, we went in different directions, and that is when I crossed paths with you,” he finished.

You thought about this, fiddling with the peeling plastic on the arm of your chair. “Even though it was under dire circumstances,” you murmured, “I’m glad I ran into you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have ended up here.”

Genji acknowledged your statement with a noise of agreement and a alight nod. “I am glad for it as well.” He hesitated, then lifted his hand up to his visor. With a click and a hiss of air, it detached and Genji pulled it off to reveal his face. 

He’s handsome, you realized, recognizing it in his bright eyes and pleasant features. An assortment of scars ran across his cheeks forehead, and his nose was adorable. You hadn’t thought about the fact that he probably had a face before, so seeing it now took you completely by surprise. 

He leaned towards you, and his gaze intense and his expression serious. “My master is rather fond of you.”

That was not what you were expecting. “…what?” 

“And you obviously care for him to some extent. Just because you cannot see my eyes, it does not mean that I am blind.” Genji spoke over your dumbfounded sputtering, continuing in an even tone, “I do not think I need to tell you to be careful in affairs of the heart, correct?”

“Hold on!” you protested, holding out your hands. “I didn’t say anything about feelings or, what, affairs of the heart?” You felt justified in your use of finger quotes. “Also, I don’t think Zenyatta is fonder of me than he is of anyone else, right? He’s just helping me out because I’m a disaster. Nothing more than that.” A pang of sadness hit you between the ribs as you finished, and you looked away.

“Perhaps I am wrong; my master can be hard to read at times.” The mischief in his voice made you look up, and the smirk on his face made the corners of his eyes wrinkle. “You, on the other hand, are as an open book.”

* * *

Winston had released you for the day, and you were headed towards your room until something unusual made you pause. You followed the smell of delicious food and the sounds of cacophonic singing to the kitchen. Reinhardt was manning several dishes and crooning along to old music coming from a speaker by the sink. 

“Working hard to get my fill,” Reinhardt sang, horrendously off-key as he stirred a pot on the stove. “ – Everybody wants a thrill!”

“Is this Journey?” you queried, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

“Ah, I see you are a purveyor of the classics!” Reinhardt boomed as he turned to face you, and you only barely restrained a snort of laughter as you say the frilly, comparatively tiny pink apron that he was wearing.

“Anyway, what’s with all this food?” You looked around him to notice that the entire kitchen was covered with ingredients, mixing bowls, and cutting boards.

“You do not remember? It is American Thanksgiving today!” Reinhardt replied heartily. “I am preparing the feast.”

“Oh! Hardly anyone celebrates it anymore, so I wasn’t expecting Overwatch to.”

“The original premise of the holiday is nonsense,” he acknowledged, “but any excuse for food and fellowship is good enough for me!”

You paused and looked around. “Are you doing all of the cooking by yourself?” 

“It may be that I had not mentioned the impending celebration – I wanted it to be a welcome surprise,” Reinhardt confessed, appearing sheepish.

“You aren’t being very stealthy for someone trying to surprise people,” you lilted in a teasing voice.

Reinhardt gave a deep belly laugh. “Ah, perhaps you are right, young one!”

“Well, can I help at least?” you offered, giving him your best puppy eyes. “I'd hate for you to have to do it by yourself.”

“But of course! I would love the company.” Stooping down, he grabbed another apron out of a drawer (this one read, “Kiss the Cook”) and passed it to you. Working together, you and Reinhardt prepared an admirable spread of food, singing along to the old songs that played as the familiar smell of Thanksgiving filled the kitchen.

* * *

When you sent the call to dinner over the Overwatch communication channel, you were astonished at just how quickly agents responded to the call of a special meal. Nearly everyone was seated around the table in a matter of minutes, chattering and commending you and Reinhardt for preparing something so lovely, although you did have to send Winston multiple direct messages before he tore himself away from work to join the party. When he entered the room and saw everyone in such a good mood, he gave you a smile so big that you could see most of his teeth. Winston took a seat at the head of the table and was engaged in conversation by Lena. 

“We haven’t had a get together this grand since last Christmas, right big guy?” she giggled and he huffed a laugh as he reached for the dinner rolls.

“You mean the time you and Emily nearly stood me up?” he grumbled good naturedly, and Lena pouted.

“Oi, you’re never gonna let me live it down, huh? I told you, shopping was murder!”

You were tired from cooking for several hours and sporting stains in places, but you were thrilled to see everyone so happy. Even Jack was having a good time, the perpetual furrow in his brows smoothed out as he cracked bad jokes, to the respective horror and delight of Hanzo and Jesse. 

“Jesse,” Jack began gruffly as he piled some turkey onto his plate, “Do you know which side of the turkey has more feathers?”

“Can't say I do,” Jesse drawled cheerfully, stealing a forkful of stuffing from Hanzo’s plate and receiving a jab with a chopstick for his troubles. “Which side?”

“The outside.” At the punchline, Jesse choked on a surprised laugh and Hanzo groaned. 

“I hate this damn holiday,” Hanzo muttered, filling a glass with sake from his gourd-shaped flask.

“There's no need for fowl language,” Jack replied mildly, stifling a grin as Jesse cackled at the pun and Hanzo covered his face with his hands. You couldn’t repress a delighted giggle.

Zenyatta came in with Genji, and although neither of them needed to eat, they mingled with everyone else in the dining room as people loaded their plates. A familiar pang of affection made your chest warm as you watched Zenyatta pass a dish of mashed potatoes over to Angela and deftly save a dish of gravy that was about to tip over. 

You carried in the last of the dishes and a bottle of wine, and as you walked in you noticed Hana and Lúcio with their heads together, talking in low voices and shooting conniving glances towards you. The second that you set your load onto the table, you were gently seized by a shoulder on each hand and tugged backwards. A shocked noise slipped out of you as you stumbled back, but you were held upright as Hana and Lúcio planted a loud, exaggerated smooch on either of your cheeks. Your cheeks immediately bloomed bright red and you stuttered in surprise and confusion as the table erupted in laughter. 

“Wh-what was that about?” 

Zenyatta caught your eye and he gestured at your front. You looked down and realized that you were still wearing the Kiss the Cook apron. A giggle slipped out of you as you playfully elbowed your two friends and untied the apron.

“Alright, you guys got me,” you snickered as you hung up the garment, a little pink lingering on your face. The gesture of affection warned you like sunshine and you shot a fond look to Hana and Lúcio as they high-fived and took their seats. Zenyatta cleared his throat - or rather, just emulated the noise – and pulled out a chair between him and Angela, which you took gratefully. 

“So, are we gonna go around and say what we're thankful for? That’s a Thanksgiving thing, isn’t it?” Lena effused as she poured herself a glass of white wine. 

Jack snorted in response. “That a hill you’re willing to die on?” You laughed with everyone else and started in on the food.

For the most part, you chatted with Angela and Genji, occasionally calling a remark down the table as necessary. Zenyatta seemed content to observe for the most part, save for a few quiet comments. You kept your glass topped off with some red wine that you had found, and since you and Angela were the only ones who liked red, you both had two or three glasses. It made you feel warm and at ease, if a little more prone to laughter and loudness.

“Hey Angela!” you remembered suddenly. 

“Yes?” She took a sip of her wine, and you noticed a pink flush forming across her cheeks from the alcohol. Adorable, you thought cheerfully.

“Is there any chance I could borrow some of your med tech books? I want to try and learn how it works so I can, you know, help out.”

Angela perked up immediately. “Of course, I would be happy to! Do you have any background in biology by chance? If not, I’m more than willing to give you some direction.”

“That would be great, actually. I only ever took introductory courses for biology.”

Even through the conversation you were holding, you finished your plate a little bit before anyone else, so you leaned back and surveyed the tableau. It was almost as if a dark fog that you hadn’t noticed had dispersed, leaving everyone bright and care-free for a time. Worry nipped at the corners of your mind as you wondered what you had been missing that would have caused a solemn air around the Watchpoint lately. 

The thought disappeared as you felt a soft brush of metal against the skin of your hand under the table, and your heart leapt into your throat as you glanced over to Zenyatta. He was turned towards you, and as you watched he stroked his fingers over the back of your hand. You let out a shaky exhale and turned your hand over, allowing him to slowly, achingly slowly slip his fingers between yours and run his thumb across your knuckles. From the corner of your eye, you could see Genji noticing this. He tilted his head slightly, and you could almost see the raised eyebrow in your minds eye as you gave him a flustered smile and half of a shrug.

* * *

Dinner was over, and you were ushered away from the clean-up, leftover stowing, and dish washing efforts. “You cooked, like, half of the dang meal!” Lúcio had scolded playfully, blocking your path to the kitchen. “Get outta here, and we'll catch you for board game night later!”

“Oh, okaaaay,” you drew out with word with an exaggerated sigh of defeat and stepped back, hiding a smile. Honestly, you hated clean-up and you were happy to leave it to someone else. A glance around the room showed you that everyone else was involved in the efforts, so you retreated to take a food and wine induced nap.

You wandered to the meditation room, remembering how cozy and soft it was in there. With a yawn, you lit as couple of the pillar candles and curled up on a stack of cushions. The fullness of your stomach and the faint smell of incense drew you into a light sleep.

Some amount of time later, you stirred from vividly colored dreams to the feeling of a hand brushing hair away from your face. Your eyes cracked open slowly. Zenyatta knelt in front of you, a hesitant hand pausing against your cheek as you woke up. You still felt a little tipsy as you gave him a big, sleepy smile, and without much thought reached up to cover his hand with yours. 

“Zen,” you mumbled the nickname affectionately, warm feelings bubbling up from your chest as you pressed his smooth hand to your skin.

“Yes, dear one?” His voice was so quiet, quiet and raw with fondness. 

“I’m thankful that I met you.”

“Oh,” Zenyatta said, the single syllable tender and soft against your ears. “I am happy to have met you.” The worn, heated metal of his palm stroked over your cheek and across your scalp, threading fingers through the strands of your hair, and you felt like you could purr. 

The cushion compressed by your head as Zenyatta sat cross-legged, and you pressed your head against his leg like a cat. Fingertips rubbed against the pressure points of your scalp as he carded his hands through your hair in regular strokes. Your eyes slid closed with contentment as you allowed yourself to be coddled, sleepy and full against Zenyatta's thigh as the candles burned down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I've got it bad,” you groaned, putting your head in your hands.

your slightest look easily will unclose me  
though i have closed myself as fingers,  
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens  
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

* * *

You settled down in the dining area after dinner one evening to start in on some medical technology texts that Mercy had lent you. She had been excited to hear that you were interested, and her enthusiasm was catching. Occasionally you had to stop to brush up on some biology that had escaped you, but you moved through the material methodically and with acute interest. For you, this was enjoyable since you were pursuing it of your own curiosity and not as an assignment. With no reason to rush, you took careful notes as you absently hummed a song that was stuck in your head. 

The sound of footsteps caught your attention and you looked up to see Zenyatta in the doorway. “Oh, hey!” you smiled, eagerly putting your pen down to greet him. “How’re you?”

“I am well,” he responded cordially, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stepped around you to the chair on your other side. The hand fell off your shoulder as he sat, and you kicked yourself for wishing he had left it there. 

“What are you working on? You seemed very engrossed,” he remarked, leaning in to glance at the book you were reading.

You brightened immediately. “Oh, I’m starting to learn about the medical tech we use! I figured that it would be good to learn about in case things break, or maybe once I know enough I could work with Angela to design something new.” As you continued explaining what you concepts you were learning and ideas you had, Zenyatta listened intently, nodding and agreeing at appropriate points. 

At length, you realized that since he didn’t have a facial expression for you to read, you might be bothering him with your rambling. You crashed to a halt and stammered, “I-I’m sorry, I got kinda carried away with talking about it, huh?” 

Zenyatta made a soft noise of protest and slid a hand over yours, and even though he had done this several times at this point, your stomach still swooped at the contact. “Of course not,” he assured you kindly. “It is truly lovely to witness you so passionate. I feel lucky to be here for it.”

The compliment made you blush brightly. You never ceased to be shocked by how strong of a sway he held on your emotions. “Thanks,” you said in a small, pleased voice, a flustered smile stealing across your face.

“Your face is red, are you feeling warm?” Zenyatta queried, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it sounded like he was teasing you.

“N-no, I’m alright!” you replied, a little too quickly. “A-anyway, what brings you here?”

“Ah, I had almost forgotten. I wished to ask you a favor, if you would be willing to assist me.” 

You hadn’t expected that. “Oh! Sure, I’ll do my best. What did you need?”

Zenyatta held up his right hand. “I’ve encountered a small problem,” he admitted. “I was sparring with Genji, and when I blocked a kick, something in my hand must have broken or dislocated.” He flexed his fingers, and you noticed that his thumb wasn’t moving. “If it is not too much, would you be willing to help me remedy the problem?”

You were shocked. “Oh god, me?” you asked apprehensively. “I haven’t worked with Omnic systems before! Wouldn’t Winston be better for this? Maybe Angela?”

“I trust you,” Zenyatta stated simply, rubbing the malfunctioning digit with his other hand. “If you cannot solve it, or do not wish to, then I will consider another course of action. But are you willing to try?”

Nerves made your heartbeat pick up and your stomach turn as you considered what could go wrong. You might make the problem even worse, you thought, or you might even potentially fuck up the entire hand. The doubts built like an avalanche and you were frozen as all the possible negative outcomes flashed through your mind. Two hands firmly placed on your shoulders jolted you out of it, and Zenyatta's voice was clear and serene.

“I can feel you panicking, dear one. Please relax, because I would not ask this of you if I were not confident in your ability,” Zenyatta soothed, taking his hands off your shoulders to take one of your hands in both of his. You were acutely aware of the damaged thumb pressed, uncurling, against your skin. 

With an effort, you allowed the muscles in your shoulders to release and you exhaled. “I’m sorry, I just – I don’t know if I can do it. And I’m scared of breaking it more than it’s already broken.”

One of Zenyatta's fingers purposefully brushed against the tender, soft skin of your wrist and a flash of heat shot up your arm, your lips parting slightly as you restrained a gasp. Zenyatta hummed, pleased to have distracted you from that line of thought.

“In truth, my machinations are not so foreign from those you have seen before,” he informed. “I believe that they would appear very familiar to you, though you have not seen Omnic machinery. I would very much like it if you would at least look it over.”

“Um, alright,” you acquiesced hesitantly. “I’ll look at it, but if I don’t know how to fix it, then can we go to Winston?”

“Of course.”

* * *

You sat at the desk in your room, meticulously spreading out tools from the kit that Winston had given you in such a way that you could reach everything easily. Zenyatta sat next to you and watched, making notes of where you placed things so that he could help if needed. 

With a deep breath, you finished setting up and rubbed your palms together, saying, “Alright, let’s get into it. Uh, try sitting facing me with your hand on – yeah, like that.”

Zenyatta adjusted to sit perpendicular to the bench with his hand on the table so that you could work on it more easily. You pulled your chair up closer and began to look his hand over, doing your best to ignore how near his face was to yours and how his shoulders were bracketing your frame. With his guidance, you gently detached and removed a couple of the protective plates covering the inner workings of his hand.

“Oh, wow.” It was a tapestry of delicate gears, pistons, rods, and wires that wove around and through everything. True to Zenyatta's word, it did look familiar, albeit more sophisticated than anything you had ever taken apart or fixed. Intrigued, you gently felt along a piston that appeared to be associated with movement of the index finger. Zenyatta made a sound like a sharp inhale and it sounded so human that you jumped. 

“Oh, can you feel me touching you?” Surprise colored your tone. “I'm sorry, I didn’t even consider that. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It did not hurt,” Zenyatta was quick to assure you. “But yes, I have touch receptors at many points on my body, both inside and out. I don’t imagine that I feel as much as a human would, but I feel enough to be well aware of my surroundings and whether something is not right.”

“I’ll be careful,” you promised. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, I'm just going to look around and try to figure out how everything goes together.”

The next ten minutes or so largely consisted of carefully walking your fingers around the intricate workings of his hand. Your mind wandered to an anatomy class you took once; you remembered diagrams of the hand, one that showed muscles and another that showed nerves. For every muscle that was in your hand, there was analogous mechanism in Zenyatta's that performed the same function. Wires and cords carried impulses and sensory information to their intended destinations, functionally the same as your nerves. You realized that it was beautiful, and the realization felt soft and warm in your chest. 

As you worked, you began to get an idea of what parts were associated with thumb movement. 

“Opponens policis.” The name of the analogous muscle occurred to you suddenly. 

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing.”

You pressed on a set of gears firmly and wiggled them a little to see whether they were properly interlocked, and a sound that you would nearly classify as a whimper escaped Zenyatta. 

“It did not hurt – you’re doing very well, do not worry,” Zenyatta eased after you jerked your hands back in concern.

“If it’s not pain, then what is it?” you asked innocently, returning to checking the moving parts. 

“It feels… unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.” Zenyatta murmured hesitantly, but you could hear a whirr as his internal fans kicked into overdrive. You didn’t push the subject, instead redoubling your efforts to find the fault in the system. 

All the parts appeared to be in proper working order, and you were starting to worry that you wouldn’t find the problem. The actuator that would move the digit was small, about the size of your thumbnail, and you hadn’t taken apart an actuator so little before. You were about to resign yourself to asking someone else for help when you noticed something.

“Oh! The wire got disconnected.” You weren’t sure how you missed it and mentally kicked yourself for not checking that first. The wire in question was thinner than an uncooked spaghetti noodle and partially hidden by other wires. 

“When you blocked Genji, you probably just flexed it a little too far and the connecter popped out.” As you spoke, you tried to coax the wire back into its place. When you found that your fingers were too bulky, you reached out and snatched a pair of forceps.

“In all likelihood, you are correct,” Zenyatta affirmed cheerfully. With the small pair of forceps, you carefully grabbed the end of the wire to guide it into the port on the actuator. There was a tiny click as the connector slid home and Zenyatta's arm twitched. 

“Can you move it?” you prompted, setting the forceps aside to see the mechanism work. All the parts worked in tandem as Zenyatta touched his thumb to the opposing pinky. You blinked slowly, struck by awe at the sight of it.

“Will you, um, keep moving it?” you asked selfishly, reaching out to hold his hand in both of yours. Zenyatta gave a quiet chuckle and obliged you, and you watched, mesmerized, as the interlocking pieces that seemed so delicate and complex each executed flawlessly and interacted with each other to flex and extend each finger.

You cupped his hand in yours like it was something small and alive. As you sat and watched, fascinated, you found yourself leaning into Zenyatta, curling yourself against his front and resting your head at the base of his neck. With feather light touches, you stroked over the exposed architecture of his hand and lamented that there were not enough nerve endings in the tips of your fingers to feel properly. Slowly, as if to not startle you, his other arm came down around your back to wrap around your middle and pull you a little closer. Liquid heat pooled in your belly and your heart beat staccato against your sternum. Without thinking, you brought his hand up to your mouth and tremblingly brushed your lips against those vulnerable components, feeling the points of gears and the smooth metal and plastic of pistons and actuator casings. Zenyatta made a low, reverberating noise deep in his chest as the fingers of his other hand gripped against the soft skin of your side. 

The moment stretched tenuous, strange, and unspeakably precious around you both as your pulse beat rabbit fast against your neck. Blood burned in your cheeks as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to live in this moment, with the thrum of Zenyatta's machinery in your ear and the solid weight of his arms around you.

* * *

Even now, the next day, every time you thought of the feeling of metal against your lips and the seemingly endless time you spent in Zenyatta's arms (it had only been several minutes – he then gently excused himself so that you could sleep and you spent the next hour trying to calm down), you felt like you could float away. When you were working you had to double down on focusing so that you wouldn’t make mistakes, and even so Winston had noticed that you’d been distracted.

At this point, you weren’t sure what Zenyatta felt towards you. The constant negative undercurrent in your mind told you that the idea was ridiculous, why would he have feelings for you? It’s not like you were strong or admirable or particularly unique.

But then you’d remember the raw noise he had made when you pressed your mouth to his hand, how his fingers had clutched against you and not loosened for the entire time you were in his embrace. You thought of the weight of your hand in his and the pure comfort of that same hand stroking your hair as you pressed against him, your heart full to bursting.

A hand passed in front of your face and you startled, nearly knocking over your water bottle as you leaned back. Lena laughed and withdrew the hand, flopping down next to you at the dining table.

“Where were you just then, love?” she asked, bumping you with her shoulder. “Something on your mind?”

“I've got it bad,” you groaned, putting your head in your hands. “What do I do?”

“Aw, that’s precious,” she cooed, reaching over you pat your back. “Is this about Zenyatta?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper, shuffling in a little closer.

“Maybe.”

“I knew you fancied him!” Lena beamed, and you shushed her.

“I don’t know what you do,” you admitted, staring at your hands. “If he doesn’t feel that way about me, which is probably the case, it’s gonna mess up the dynamic around here, right?” 

“Well, maybe. But between you and me, you don’t gotta worry about that.” Lena giggled as you gave her a confused look. “C'mon. The way he acts around you? I’ve never seen him act like that ‘round anyone.”

“Do you really think so?” You were cautiously allowing yourself to hope. 

“The only way to know for sure is to ask, isn’t it?” She gave you a wink as she stood. “Gotta run love, good luck!” With a flash of blue light, she was out the door before you could say bye.

Well, you thought. I guess I should talk to him. That’ll probably be the scariest thing I’ll do all year.

* * *

You were working on a door panel in the hangar when it happened. 

You had a screwdriver between your teeth as you switched out a fuse. The sound of many heavy boots hitting the ground caught your attention, and you peaked out from behind a steel support post to see what was going on. At least fifteen people in all black entered the hangar doors, armed to the teeth with all manner of guns. Thinking fast, you dropped to your knees behind the tool cart and pressed against the wall, holding your breath as they marched past. 

With shaking fingers, you pulled out your communicator and clicked to the Overwatch emergency channel. An alarm would be raised when you sent it, so you typed quick.

helluvaengineer: in hangar, intruders, all black clothes and guns pls help

You hit send, and an earsplitting alarm began to blare from the intercoms. The communicator in your hands began to vibrate as messages started coming through.

soldier_76: Where in the hangar  
helluvaengineer: inner door across from the stairs  
tracer: @Winston tell me ur done fixing my pistols luv!!!  
winston: Yes, come get them. I’m getting suited up.  
d.va: they’re heading to the server room!!! me and meka are on the way  
genji: @helluvaengineer I’m on my way. Stay where you are.  
mccree: do u think its talon

You pocketed the communicator, still buzzing, when Genji appeared a couple of minutes later. “We need to move quickly, we are in danger here,” he urged, directing you to the stairs. As you began to move, air stirred behind you, a rasping laugh echoing through the room as you whirled around in shock. 

A tall, imposing figure looked over you, black smoke pouring off of him in waves, the bleach white of a skull mask staring at you through dark eyeholes. Two sleek, deadly looking shotguns hung from his belt and you froze in place, fragments of an old dream flashing in your mind as a clawed gauntlet reached up to grab you by the throat. You choked in surprise, reaching up to paw at his arms as the fingers sank into your skin, the sharp tips drawing blood.

“Reaper, let her go.” Genji growled, and with a flex of his wrist there were shuriken between his fingers.

Reaper snarled, his grip tightening and you wheezed, seeing stars as your air supply cut off. “No problem,” he hissed, and with an effortless movement of his arm, he threw you to the side. You hit the tool cart hard and skidded, slamming into the wall with a crack as your felt your arm break. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, your vision blurring with tears and your head spinning as you nearly passed out from the sudden pain. 

Genji called your name in alarm, and you cracked your eyes open to see Reaper draw his guns and begin to open fire. Cacophonous blasts beat against your eardrums as Genji dodged and weaved and leapt nimbly around him, pelting him with shuriken at any opportunity. The pair of shotguns were tossed carelessly to the side when the ammo ran out, and Reaper pulled out another pair from seemingly nowhere. Across the Watchpoint you could hear fighting, gunshots, and shouting, and through the haze of pain you hoped that everyone was safe.

With a shout, Genji unsheathed the sword that he carried on his back and held it at the ready, a crackling mass of viridian electricity resolving into the rough shape of a dragon that curled around his blade. The hairs on your neck stood on end and you instinctively shrunk back as the dragon opened its mouth to let out an otherworldly roar. 

_“Ryūjin no ken wo kūrae!”_

Flashes of green light lit up the room at intervals as Genji advanced on Reaper, unnaturally fast as he slashed and whirled around him. A slice cut down Reaper’s arm and he snarled, dissolving into smoke as the follow-up stabbed through where his heart would have been. You still couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening, dizzy and confused from where your head hit the wall, so the sight of an entire person morphing into a shifting dark cloud thoroughly disoriented you. Your eyes started to slip shut – you were so tired…

There were hands on you, shaking you, and a panicked voice saying your name. You whimpered in fright as your eyes opened again. Zenyatta crouched beside you, and made a relieved noise as you stirred.

“You are going to be alright,” Zenyatta soothed, a hint of anxiety still in his tone. With a wave of his hand, the orb of harmony flew to you and attached, and your mind cleared as the pain leached away. Zenyatta pulled your broken arm straight, making you yelp and he shushed you.

“This will take a few minutes to mend, and you need to keep your arm straight while it does,” he told you in a voice that left no room for argument. Tenderly, he brushed hair out of your face and stood. The orbs around his neck swelled outwards with and spun dizzyingly fast, and he pulled his legs up into a sitting position as he hovered. His hands came together and there was a flash of blue light from the orbs. 

“I will keep you safe.”

Zenyatta unleashed a barrage of bright blue destructive energy upon Reaper as he reformed, making him release a shriek of pain. Genji nimbly leapt over him to land beside Zenyatta, and the two of them settled into a practiced defensive stance.

“It has been a while since we have fought together, my student.”

“So it has,” Genji agreed. “I have missed it.”

“As have I.” 

With some unspoken cue, they moved together and began to press the attack. You watched in awe as they worked in tandem to overwhelm Reaper, every maneuver practiced and well executed. They backed Reaper against the wall, Genji always ready to take advantage of an opening with the bite of his sword and Zenyatta striking balls of destructive energy out of the orbs with the palms of his hands.

Reaper snarled and vanished in a puff of smoke as the sword again tried for his heart, but this time, he did not immediately reform. 

As moments ticked by, Genji began to slowly sheathe his sword. Zenyatta was quick to stop him, saying, “Do not yet relax your defenses.”

But even as the words were spoken, Reaper formed out of the ether behind them. “Watch your back,” he mocked, and pulled the trigger of his shotgun into Genji's back. Genji dropped to the ground, his lights flickering and dimming as ruined machinery sparked and blood began to flow.

Zenyatta made a sound like nothing you had heard before, mechanical and anguished and incensed. The orb of harmony whizzed away from you to attach to Genji as Zenyatta set upon Reaper, terrifying and glorious in his furious precision. With some effort, you freed your communicator from your pocket.

helluvaengineer: reaper

Panicked, you looked over at Genji from where you were laying and it didn’t look good. The orb of harmony didn’t appear to be working very quickly, so extensive was the damage. Panicked, you looked around for something, anything you could do to help, and your eyes landed on your toolkit. You remembered Jack tossing you a biotic emitter weeks ago, and that you had stowed it in your bag to take it apart later. Luckily, you hadn’t gotten around to it. 

With some effort, you stretched up and snatched the bag off the cart, rooting around with shaky hands until you found the biotic emitter. The fight had moved some distance away from Genji, and your heart thundered as you considered what you were about to do. You almost felt nauseous from fear when you pulled yourself up onto your knees and began to pull yourself across the floor, mindful of your barely mended arm. The world dipped and swirled; you suspected that you might be concussed.

Blood soaked through the knees of your pants as you settled beside Genji and startled fussing with the emitter, your fingers clumsy. The switch on it clicked as you flipped it on, and a radius of yellow light beamed out of it. The visible flesh of Genji's back started to mend as you watched in relief.

Distantly, you heard a whirr and a series of clicks. In slow motion, you looked up and stared down the barrel of a sniper rifle. 

The sniper was on a catwalk across the room, her skin an alien shade of blue. You could feel her eyes on you, assessing, and your skin crawled. As you watched, the barrel of the rifle shifted from you to Genji. The sound of the battle faded to background noise and you were hyperaware of her movements as she reached up to press a button behind her ear. A visor with multiple glowing red lenses spread across her face, and the hand returned to her gun, a finger resting on the trigger. The image of a black widow flashed in your mind as she steadied her rifle.

_“Adieu.”_

The word drifted across the room and you impulsively threw yourself over Genji's head.

A loud crack split the room, and for a moment you didn’t feel any pain. You heard Jack yell in fury and the rattling of pulse munitions as he arrived, and you heard Zenyatta shout, “No!”, more frightened and helpless than you’d ever heard him.

Then there was the pain like nothing you had felt before, a line of fire through your abdomen and your vision swam. A cough sent a splatter of blood across Genji's faceplate. And even above all the noise, you could hear the sniper make an annoyed sound as she lined up another shot.

Zenyatta flew in front of you and Genji, and as his hands came together there was a melodic chime that went straight through to your core. There was an eruption of golden light from his center that surrounded him like a sun; it should have been blinding to look at, but it wasn’t. Six glowing arms formed from the light and spread around Zenyatta, invoking images of gods you had once learned about, and his orbs surrounded him in a circle. 

It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

In the radius of the light, you felt peace in the face of danger and pain, the bullet wound you had suffered healing with a strange, pleasant feeling. For a moment, the order of the universe made itself known to you and you understood, instantaneously coming to terms with your place in the world. A voice that was simultaneously his and many whispered straight into your soul. _Experience tranquility._

The light began to fade, and you could hear a clink as the bullet that Zenyatta had stopped fell harmlessly to the ground. 

Lost for what to do, you slumped over and lost consciousness, barely registering the sight of Zenyatta falling to his knees beside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? What's that? (Sorry about the cliffhanger, I love you!)
> 
> Haha, thank you guys! I really appreciate the folks who comment of chapters as they come out, they make me feel appreciated and motivated in the face of difficult schoolwork! Take care of yourselves, see you next time. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The bullet went right through your heart,” she murmured. “That caused it to ricochet and miss Genji. I cannot say for sure, but I believe that he would have died without you there.”

Love is clockworks and cold steel  
Fingers too numb to feel  
Squeeze the handle, blow out the candle  
Love is blindness.

* * *

For a long time, you drifted. You swam through half-dreams that you forgot as soon as they disappeared, interspersed with periods of near awareness where you could distantly hear a regular beeping and feel the light pressure of a blanket. Sometimes there were voices, familiar ones, but you couldn’t understand the words. 

At one point, you scraped the surface and your eyes barely cracked open. Everything was bright and white, the sterility of a hospital room. There was a warm, familiar weight curled against you; you managed to move your head just enough to see Turtle faithfully curled up by your side, purring quietly in her sleep. Jack was slouched in a chair next to your bed, doing a crossword, and he glanced up to see you looking back. 

“You're awake,” he said, gruff and relieved. “Listen, don’t tell Angela that I brought the cat in.”

Turtle stretched out and chirped as she woke, bringing a small smile to your face as you slipped back under. 

* * *

When you woke up the next time, Angela was inspecting the machines you were hitched to and making notes on a clipboard. You were sad to see that Turtle wasn’t there any more. When you stirred, Angela paused and gave you a smile.

“Ah, I was hoping you’d wake up soon!” she told you, helping you shift into a sitting position. A cup of water was pressed into your hands and you drained it, soothing your dry, parched throat. Angela chuckled and got you another glass. 

“How - ” You winced when you heard yourself, your voice quiet and scratchy from disuse. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple days.” Angela perched on the edge of the bed as she spoke. “How do you feel?”

Memories clattered around in your head and you struggled to make sense of them, swirling the cup of water absentmindedly as you thought. “There… was an attack,” you began hesitantly, remembering the Talon soldiers in the hangar. The events following it were a blur of colors and noises and emotions that you struggled to untangle. “There was a man in a skull mask – Reaper. Genji was there, then Zenyatta…”

The crack of a shotgun. Blood and sparks flashed just behind your eyes, and without thinking you released the cup in your hand, causing water to fall across your lap. “Genji! Oh god, is he – Is he okay?”

“Genji is recovering, and he will be alright,” Angela soothed as she grabbed a towel to help you soak up the water.

You were frozen, reliving the experience in vivid detail as you sat stock still. “And then the sniper…” Her golden eyes flashed in your mind’s eye, and you slowly raised a hand to touch a spot below your left breast, feeling a raised circle of scar tissue.

“That's the exit wound,” Angela explained gently. “The entrance wound is on your back.” 

The scar stung suddenly and you winced, pressing down on it. “What happened after I blacked out?”

“Jack and Lena arrived in time to drive Reaper and Widowmaker away. Together they were able to get you and Genji to safety.” At your gesturing, she passed you the clipboard to look at. “You went into shock and you’ve been here since, recovering. No one else was seriously injured.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment while you read and tried to process everything. 

Angela broke the silence. “The bullet went right through your heart,” she murmured. “That caused it to ricochet and miss Genji. I cannot say for sure, but I believe that he would have died without you there.”

You stared blankly and your hands, not really understanding what you were hearing but nodding anyway. “How am I alive?” you asked, half remembering Zenyatta suspended in a sphere of golden light.

“I believe that Zenyatta would be able to answer that question more fully than I could. But what he did almost certainly saved your life – that kind of heart damage can almost never be repaired.” As she spoke, she removed your IV and placed a wad of cotton over the puncture. “However, it must have taken a toll on him, as he was also brought in unconscious.”

That sent a cold shock straight through you. “Is – is he okay?”

“Oh yes,” she assured. “He was back to normal when I saw him this morning, at least.”

The appropriate response would have been relief, but you found that emotions were escaping you at the moment. “When can I be released?” 

“Let me look you over one last time, and then I can help you get dressed and back to your quarters.”

* * *

Turtle kneaded her paws against your belly as you stared at the ceiling. You had laid down as soon as you got back, feeling exhausted. Sleep would not come, and you hadn’t moved. The communicator on your bedside table had been vibrating with messages on and off, and at one point someone had called, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to move your hand and pick it up. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, and it had been for hours, but you continued to ignore it.

Some amount of time later, a quiet alarm on your phone went off and you knew it was the reminder to feed Turtle dinner. Turtle knew it and she was up in an instant, rubbing her cheek against yours and meowing plaintively. At some point she must have figured out what the alarm meant, you thought. It almost made you smile.

With a considerable amount of effort, you convinced yourself to move. You set Turtle’s food out, and as she tucked in you looked outside. It was already dark – when had that happened? Dinner was probably being served and it was Lúcio’s turn to cook; you'd been looking forward to it all week, and you were starving. 

Well, you were already up. Staying in bed all day made you look like a mess, you thought, but you threw a sweatshirt over your pajamas and called it good enough. 

You stood outside the room, the sounds of cheerful conversation and the scent of delicious food on the air. With a deep breath, you attempted to put on a normal face and stepped into the room.

Lúcio noticed you immediately and beamed, setting down a huge steaming pot in the middle of the table. “Awesome, you made it! I was starting to worry you were gonna bail.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying for a friendly smile. You took the open seat next to Reinhardt, noticing that neither Genji nor Zenyatta were present, and snagged a circular roll from a basket in front of you.

“That’s pão de quejo,” Reinhardt said enthusiastically, and Lúcio gave a good natured eye roll as he butchered the pronunciation. “It will change your life!” 

“That’s a glowing endorsement,” you teased, starting to feel more at ease. With that, you took a large bite of it and nearly moaned. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

“Pass them, would you?” came a voice from across the table. 

“Sure, here you go.” You grabbed the basket and held it out. Then you noticed something strange and paused.

There was an older woman you didn’t know sitting across the table, a symbol that you thought was Egyptian was tattooed under her left eye and an eyepatch covering her right. With an eyebrow raised in amusement at your bemused expression, she took the basket from your hand.

“…I’m sorry,” you managed. “Who – ?”

“Oh, that’s Ana!” Lena spoke with her mouth full, earning a disdainful stare from Hanzo before she swallowed. “You know, Captain Amari? From old Overwatch?”

“Wait. But she was dead, wasn’t she? I could’ve sworn she died,” you said, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to remember. 

“Everyone thought she did,” Reinhardt grumbled, stabbing a piece of sausage with a fork. “I spoke at her funeral myself.” 

He sounded upset, and your heart went out to him; you hadn’t seen him be anything but genial around the Watchpoint. It must be difficult to find out that another friend that you had buried and mourned had actually been alive. You nodded at Ana politely, a little wary of the sharp looking woman. “It’s nice you meet you.”

“You as well. You look much better than you did when we first met.” 

“Ana came in and helped us fight off the last of the enemy,” Jack clarified from down the table. “At the last possible moment, I might add. She had apparently been tracking them for months.”

“You’ll forgive an old woman's flair for the dramatic, Jack,” Ana laughed as she loaded her plate. “I gave that sniper enough to remember me by, at least. Although it was not nearly enough to make up for my eye.”

You were intrigued by the possibility of a story, but she waved it off. “Another time,” she promised, eye twinkling, and began questioning Jack about the state of operations.

Reinhardt still looked a little sad, so you reached up to gently pat his shoulder and received an appreciative smile in return. “Thank you, my friend,” he rumbled, and clapped a friendly hand down on your shoulder. 

Several things happened very quickly.

The heavy hand descended on your shoulder and you froze, vividly reliving the feeling of clawed fingers closing around your neck, drawing blood. Your autonomic nervous system kicked into full flight or flight – your pupils dilated and your heart thundered as the world narrowed down significantly around you. With a frightened cry, you pushed the hand away and shoved your chair backwards. You misjudged the force needed and the chair tipped back – your foot kicked the table hard as the chair fell to the floor, and you tumbled painfully. The kick knocked over several drink glasses and dishes, spilling their contents and causing those gathered to exclaim in surprise. You curled in on yourself instinctively to protect yourself from the coming attack. 

But none came. You uncovered your face, hands shaking, and looked up to see all eyes trained on you. The room was still rattled with shock over the sudden commotion. Blinking against the sudden surge of tears, you scrambled to your feet and choked on an apology as you turned tail and fled, leaving those judging gazes behind.

* * *

When you stopped running, you were completely out of breath and had a stitch like a knife in your side. The distant sound of birds came to you as you walked over to the edge of the cliff, the ocean gleaming below. You sat down in a grassy spot and panted as you recovered; you'd only just missed the sunset, and the sky was orange, blue, and purple over the waves. Your new scars stung insistently and some big, nameless emotion ached in your chest.

The soft scuff of wood sandals against grass alerted you to Zenyatta's presence. The sound stopped as he stood behind you a distance, waiting for your acknowledgement. Instead, you pulled your knees to your chest and watched as the blue in the sky began to darken in the absence of the sun. After a time, Zenyatta came to sit beside you. He was close enough that you could lean on him if you wanted to, and damn if that wasn’t a tempting thought. 

“I can feel your turmoil,” came his soft, synthetic voice, “like the tremors of an earthquake, or a storm about to break.”

Here he paused to wait for a reply. You should have felt happy and relieved to see him, you knew that. But there was an empty hurt in your chest and the happiness didn’t come – you could only think of his form bursting into a supernova of light and the feeling of the bullet punching through your abdomen. The grass was cool and soft, so you laid down and stared at the sky.

There was hesitation from the omnic at your side as you didn’t respond. Zenyatta sighed and mirrored your previous position by hugging his legs to himself. The motion was so human and the ache inside gnawed at your ribs.

After a few long minutes of silence, Zenyatta tried again. “When I reach into the intangible and touch the Iris,” he told you, “it flows through me and surrounds those around me. I transcend this plane of existence, allowing me to heal even mortal wounds.”

You hummed and allowed your eyes to slip closed as you remembered, hearing the faint echo of a chime and faint vestiges of the complete and total peace that you had felt in that moment. “When I saw you and Genji were...” His voice cracked, raw with static. “I knew that there was no other option to save you. However, if you are not expecting it, transcendence can be... overwhelming.”

Reflexively you let out a bark of humorless laughter. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Zenyatta said your name in confusion, and before you could contain it, frustration flashed through you. “I just embarrassed myself in front of everyone at dinner,” you snapped. “I’ve felt awful and distant all day, and now I can’t even be around people without overreacting and making a fool out of myself! I just – I don't know what’s going on.”

The stars were beginning to come out and you blinked away the threat of tears. A sudden jolt of pain made you hiss and press a hand to the scar below your breast.

“Are you alright?” He sounded worried about you. 

“I’m fine,” you muttered in annoyance. “The scar just hurts sometimes.”

“Scar?” Zenyatta asked, sounding perplexed. “There should not be a scar. Transcendence heals all physical harm.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell you,” you replied, exasperated. “There’s a scar. I wouldn’t lie about it.” 

“May I see it?”

“…you know what? Fine.” You tugged your shirt up so that it barely showed the exit wound on your front, flushing slightly as you exposed the soft skin of your front. A gentle, hesitant hand reached out to brush over the star-shaped mark, and you flinched at the slight contact before you controlled the reaction. The sting soothed momentarily at the touch of cool metal.

“I don’t understand,” Zenyatta murmured, sounding confused and slightly panicked. “This… this has not happened before.”

You snorted. “Wow, then I must be special.”

But Zenyatta was looking right at you, and his posture conveyed hurt, worry, and concern. Suddenly, you were struck with the certainty that you did not deserve to be around this kind soul, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be around you and your shitty attitude. You hastily got up, shame and annoyance with yourself urging you to retreat. “I'm tired,” you lied through your teeth.

Zenyatta said your name again, pleading this time. “Please do not go. I am worried about you.” He reached a hand out to you, and it hung in the air between you.

“I – I can’t,” you said, your voice sounding lost to your own ears. You turned on your heel and hurried back to your room, Zenyatta’s voice echoing and amplifying in your mind.

* * *

Of course, the nightmares found you that night.

After hours of tossing and turning, you drifted into a light uneasy sleep to be immediately greeted by the dark creatures that lived in the corners of your mind, brought to life by your recent ordeal.

You were in the hangar again, vast and dark with roiling black smoke that seemed to seep from the floor itself. Again, you stared down the barrel of the sniper’s rifle and you couldn’t move. Cold dread pooled in your stomach as Widowmaker lined up the shot – you could see up the scope right to her intent, golden eye. A half remembered song drifted to you, a susurrus of breathy French.

_Alouette, gentille alouette. Alouette, je tai plumerai…_

In a smooth, sinuous motion, she swept the scope to a spot over your shoulder and fired. The rifle gave a report that sounded like the chime of a bell, and it penetrated down to your bones. You turned in slow motion, the scene changing as your head swung around. 

You were on the rooftop garden at twilight, the flowers fever bright and huge. Zenyatta lay broken on the floor, a perfect bullet hole through the center optic of his array. As you watched, vines began to grow from the hole to spread across his body and the ground. Small white buds bloomed into fragrant jasmine flowers, the thick scent surrounding you as you fell to your knees beside Zenyatta's prone form. You opened your mouth to scream but you couldn’t make a sound. 

A clawed hand fisted in your hair and yanked back your head, and you knew it was the Reaper. The wicked sharpness of a scythe pressed to the column of your throat.

“Say goodnight,” came the gravelly voice in your ear.

And darkness.

* * *

You bolted upright in bed with a shout. There were tear tracks down your face, and the sheets were twisted where you had tossed and turned in the dream. A sob tore out of your throat and you curled in on yourself, exhausted and so, so afraid.

There was a knock at your door. You recognized the distinctive clang of metal against metal. The sound was muffled as you pulled the pillow over your head and hiccupped quietly as you fell back into sleep.

* * *

When you woke, the sun barely beginning to rise, you were tired and fed up. In a flurry of motion, you got up and ready for the day. You showered, dressed, fed Turtle, and got out of the door in record time, but you slowed and stopped as you saw Zenyatta. 

The array on his forehead was dimmed and he sat cross-legged beside your door, seemingly asleep. Guilt flooded you as you realized he had probably been there all night after you had ignored his knocking. Hesitantly, you bent down and gently pressed your forehead to his, heart pounding. You knew that this stolen intimacy should feel wrong , but the sweet, simple proximity made your heartbeat stutter and pick up. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, treasuring the tingling feeling of cool metal against your warm skin. “I’m going to do what I can to be stronger.”

Determination renewed, you stood up and marched onwards, stopping at the clinic. You knew that Angela was always up early, so you went inside. 

Angela was at her computer, and she looked shocked to see you. “Oh, you're up so early – and you look unwell,” she noted, worried. “Is something wrong?”

“Angela, please teach me to defend myself. I’m so tired of being afraid. I - I don’t want to be a liability anymore.” You swallowed, contained the stutter, and squared your shoulders. “I want to be able to take care of myself and defend my friends.” 

Angela sized you up, tapping her glasses against her lips with a thoughtful frown. Finally, she cracked a smile. “Well, you certainly came to the right person,” she hummed. “I think it is a good idea, but it won’t be easy. Are you sure?”

“I’m completely sure. When can I start?”

“I’ll make us some breakfast, and then we can begin.”

* * *

“Try and grab me from behind,” Angela instructed cheerfully, and turned her back to you. 

“Is that all?” you asked doubtfully. “Well, okay.” Quickly, you reached forward and snaked your arm around Angela's neck.

Quick as a snake, Angela grabbed your arm and dropped to a knee. With an effortless motion, she flipped you over her shoulder. You slammed onto the mat on your back, and all the air left your lungs. 

“I wasn’t ready,” you wheezed, thankful for the padded mat on the floor. 

A hand entered your field of vision and you took it, Angela giggling as she helped you to your feet. “No one expects that one, and to be honest it is quite fun!” she confided as you straightened back up. “Now, try again.”

You got your ass kicked by Angela in several exciting and novel ways in the following half hour, but you were determined. Every time you threw yourself back in, you learned something new and you didn’t give up. After a particularly brutal takedown, you tasted blood in your mouth. As you got up again, you looked up and saw Zenyatta and Genji, both looking at you.

You just smiled and wiped the blood from the corner of your mouth.

You would get stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I am so sorry. There was finals and then holidays with family and I feel so bad about leaving this to sit for a month. Please forgive me :c
> 
> Chapter 6! Not my favorite one but I gotta pull some plot strings to get things moving. I might make a little Christmas mini chapter because I had a cute idea for it. It would exist outside the timeline for this but we will see.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I love you guys and appreciate the comments and kudos, please leave one or both? :) Happy New Year!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And everyone thought it would be best if we didn’t talk about it because you were embarrassed, but that’s not right at all! You're just running away, and it isn’t helping.”

There's a new day coming where there's nowhere to hide,  
You bottle up your feelings and you keep them inside.  
No longer.  
You got to be stronger.

* * *

At some point, people had agreed to not put you on the spot about what had happened at dinner the other night. You were grateful – it was already hugely embarrassing, and you didn’t particularly feel like talking about it to anyone. Winston had let you come back to work after giving you a week off (“Considering that you very nearly died, I insist that you take some time off,” he had told you after you were released from the infirmary). 

Being able to apply yourself to work helped massively; it was hard to dwell on your nightmares and the inane things that set you off when there was an entire Watchpoint’s worth of machines that needed tuned and tweaked and fixed. And if you sometimes looked up from work to discover that dinner had come and gone, well, at least they kept leftovers in the kitchen. 

You hadn’t seen Zenyatta around too much lately, and that hurt. He used to seek you out, but after you had pushed him away that day he had been giving you space. Even though you desperately wanted his company, you were nervous to talk to him and apologize. Zenyatta didn’t strike you as the type to hold a grudge, but you irrationally feared the worst anyway. 

The door to your bedroom slid shut behind you, and upon seeing you Turtle padded quickly across the floor to rub against your leg, meowing loudly.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately.”

“Mraow!”

“I still love you, I promise.” You scooped her up and smooched her tiny, furry head. “I’ll try to be better.” 

In response, she purred and rubbed her cheek against yours. You knew that she couldn’t really understand you, or you her, but she always talked back. You sat at the computer and allowed her to settle in your lap as you continued to research medical nanobots and how they caused cells to regenerate and repair themselves.

After a time, the communicator on your desk buzzed loudly and you startled. The display said that it was midnight, and you had a message from Hana.

d.va – why is there light coming under ur door??  
helluvaengineer - I'm still awake 

Something pounded on your door and you heard Hana’s voice. 

“Open up, it’s the sleep police!”

You laughed and hit the door button to let her in. Hana stood there, arms crossed and looking miffed. 

“Every day for like the past week there’s been light under your door super late!” she scolded. “Get your pajamas on and come with me.” 

The door slid shut and you blinked. “Um. Okay?”

After donning your cozy pajamas, you padded down the hall. Hana was actually your closest neighbor, but you hadn’t ever been in her room. It was brightly colored and slightly messy, although the look of the overflowing trash can informed you that there had been a quick effort to tidy the worst of it. Hana dragged two beanbags out of the closet and plopped them by a television in the corner. As you sat, she turned on a cooperative puzzle game for you both to play.

The two of you chatted as you played, solving puzzles and joking as you progressed through the levels. You relaxed in your beanbag chair, enjoying the time spent but still confused as to why you were there.

Finally, you asked, “Why are we playing this game? I mean, it’s fun, but I thought you were upset with me.”

Hana sighed and paused the game. “Look, I was at dinner the other night. I saw what happened.”

You shrunk in your beanbag a little, unsure what to say as she continued. “And everyone thought it would be best if we didn’t talk about it because you were embarrassed, but that’s not right at all! You're just running away, and it isn’t helping.”

“I - I'm sorry,” you apologized. “I just… I don’t know what to do about it, or what’s really happening, even.”

“I can hear you at night, you know,” Hana said, sympathetic. “You cry in your sleep. Nightmares, right?”

You winced. “Oh god, I’m really sorry -”

Hana cut off the rest of your apology. “I get nightmares too.”

At your bemused look, she continued. “I was a soldier, you know? I mean, I was a pro gamer, but I was drafted as a soldier after the Omnic attacks started. Everyone treats me like a hero, but I’ve seen so many awful things.” Her expression darkened, and she looked sad. “Awful things that no one should have to see.”

“I didn’t think about that,” you said, stricken. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t even thought about this as a possibility.

Hana nodded. “Yeah, most people just tend to focus on the gaming part.” You looked horrified, she quickly amended, “and that’s okay! That’s what I emphasize more, I try not to spend too much time thinking about the other stuff. But yeah, I’ve dealt with PTSD for a while now.”

As soon as she said the words, something clicked. “Post traumatic stress disorder,” you said out loud, astonished. “I have PTSD.”

“You should probably ask the real doctor, but yep, I think so.” Hana scooted over and threw an arm across your shoulders encouragingly. “It makes sense! I mean, you almost died. That messes with people pretty bad!”

You laughed shakily, still shocked that you hadn’t realized. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“But you gotta take care of yourself!” Hana told you insistently. “We are all so worried about you. You’re not talking to anyone, not really. Just working and learning to defend yourself.”

“You’re right,” you mumbled, feeling guilty for worrying everyone. “I've been kinda self-centered these past few days, I think.” 

“Well, maybe a little.” She bumped you with her shoulder playfully. “Just try and take care of yourself, okay? We all care about you.”

“I’ll do my best.” You leaned into the contact, a genuine smile curved your lips.

* * *

You met Angela at the shooting range like she had asked. At your last session, she had mentioned that it may be useful for you to learn how to shoot a sidearm, only in case of emergencies.

“Wait,” you had protested. “I don’t really like guns – and it’s so easy to make a mistake with them!”

Angela had smiled sadly and said, “I do not like them either. But should the worst happen, if the Watchpoint is invaded again, then you and I are more useful alive.”

So here you were, and you were surprised to see Ana standing with Angela. 

“Oh, hi Ana.” 

“Ana is much better at teaching this than I am,” Angela said apologetically. “I should have told you in advance.”

“No, it’s okay.” You gave her and Ana a smile. “Whatever you think is best! I’m still not sure how I feel about having a gun, though.”

“Listen up,” Ana said briskly, but not unkindly. Her tone made you stand straight up without really thinking about it. “This is not about violence and hurting people. This is about protecting yourself and making sure those you care about get home safe. It just so happens that in some circumstances, skill with a gun can be the best tool to do that. Understand?”

“Um, I think so. That makes me feel a little better about it, at least.”

Ana nodded and walked over to a rack along the wall. For reasons that you couldn’t quite place a finger on, she made you think of a sharp, old crow. You respected her. And feared her, just a little. She was enigmatic and you couldn’t quite read her.

The small, sleek pulse pistol fit in your hand well, and you were surprised at how light it was. Angela smiled reassuringly as you tentatively curled your fingers around the grip. Ana tsked when she saw how you were holding it.

“It isn’t going to bite you, you have to _hold_ it.” With deft fingers, she arranged your grip so that you were holding it right. With a nod of approval, she herded you over to the range.

“There is hope for you yet. Let’s get started.”

* * *

You were always tired now, even after just waking up – the nightmares didn’t really stop, even though you were making an effort to connect with people again. It was especially bad today, as you had gone to spend your early morning with Jesse and Hanzo after a particularly alarming dream made it impossible to sleep.

(You'd actually walked in on them kissing and immediately turned on your heel to leave. Jesse noticed and insisted that you stay, making you a cup of Hanson’s preferred tea. It wasn’t as good as when Hanzo made it, but the expression on Hanzo’s face as he watched Jesse made it was absolutely precious.)

After work, you wandered aimlessly to one of the recreation rooms. It was full of books and usually deserted, and you figured reading might be a nice change of pace. You went straight for the bookshelf and started thumbing through the titles, eventually settling on a book you had read a couple times before. As you tugged the firmly wedged book out of its place, a voice spoke behind you.

“What a pleasant surprise – people don’t usually come here.”

You startled and turned around to see Zenyatta on one of the couches in the room, cross-legged with an open posture. The familiar feeling of guilt pinged in your chest, and you knew you couldn’t delay this forever. Zenyatta made room for you as you sat beside him on the couch. 

“Zenyatta,” you began, unsure. “I’m really sorry for the way I acted to you. It wasn’t fair, and I – I really miss spending time with you.” Your shoulders slumped, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from your hands. “Everything has been exhausting and weird lately, and I know I should’ve talked to you sooner but…”

Oh good, you were tearing up. You sniffed and rubbed your eyes, vowing to not start crying while you were trying to apologize. Finally, you managed, “I miss being around you and talking to you. I’m sorry.”

There was silence for several long moments and the urge to cry strengthened. But then Zenyatta reached out, slowly, and took your hand. Your heart gave a resounding thump as those smooth, metal fingers intertwined with yours, filling you with warmth. It felt like a piece of you that was missing had slotted back into place, and you immediately calmed. 

“I am afraid that the fault is not entirely yours,” he admitted. “In part because you were distraught, and people tend to not think clearly in that state. But I allowed my confusion and hesitation to keep me from your side in a time that you needed help.”

Any half-formed protests from you were gently overridden as Zenyatta spoke your name, soft but serious. “In addition, rather than trying to comfort you in your vulnerable state, I upset you further by acting strangely and not expressing my emotions.” His fingers tightened around yours. 

“The truth of it is, I was terrified for you. I was so… worried that I would never be able to pass time in your company or speak with you ever again. I was angry that you placed yourself in harm's way, but grateful that you saved Genji, who is also dear to me.” A breath of a laugh escaped him. “I have never been so overwhelmed by emotion as I was as that moment.”

You were completely lost for words, each syllable of the admission blowing past your defenses, tugging at the strings of your emotion until you were overwhelmed by attraction. Zenyatta had stopped talking and was looking at you, but you couldn’t form words, the sound of your heart loud in your ears. Without thought, you reached out and were received in turn. Arms wrapped around you carefully and you leaned your head against his shoulder, the smell of old metal and incense strange and comforting.

“I am extremely fond of you,” came the vibration of voice from his throat, hands pressed tenderly to the small of your back. “I am privileged to have such a companionship with a soul as beautiful as yours.”

It was so close to an admittance of love that you swallowed, heat burning under your skin as you reminded yourself that he didn’t mean romantically, couldn’t mean romantically. But even if all you ever had with Zenyatta was a close friendship, well, you counted yourself lucky.

“Yeah,” you said in a hushed voice. “I’m really grateful that I met you. Like, every day I think about how happy I am to just know you.” Even in these simple statements, you let your true feelings color the words. You hoped that your emotions would reach him even if they weren’t acknowledged.

Fingers caressed the nape of your neck and you trembled against his front, the touch unexpectedly intimate but welcome. The air felt disproportionately cold as Zenyatta released you and leaned back.

“I am still worried about you,” he said, voice soft and low. “You look tired, and you have been distressed so often lately. I would like to help you work through your trauma so that you may recover. “

“Um, I would appreciate it,” you said meekly. “Things have been pretty awful lately. I feel so… alone. Distant. Scared. And I’ve been having awful nightmares.”

Zenyatta nodded slowly. “After touching the Iris, I sometimes have vivid, strange dreams. These may be prophetic and may come to pass, but just as often they do not. However, I have not heard of others having them.”

“Oh.” Well, that was worrying. “I hope that they’re not prophetic,” you muttered uneasily.

A sympathetic hum emanated from Zenyatta. “They should stop soon,” he reassured you. “If they don’t, please let me know. However, I think that I may have a tool to ease your waking troubles. Have you ever meditated?”

“No, not really.” You remembered all the times you had seen Genji and Zenyatta meditating around the base, and how peaceful they always looked. “I’m willing to give it a try, though,” you concluded, curious.

“Excellent!” A smile stole over your face – he sounded so excited. “Would anything prevent us from starting now?”

“Ehhh….” you hemmed, your immediate reaction telling you to do it some other time. But Zenyatta's head was tilted cheerfully and he looked eager to teach you. “I don’t see why not,” you approved, causing Zenyatta to make a happy, distinctly nonhuman noise. Almost like the chirr of a cat, you thought.

At his instruction, you leaned back against the couch with your legs crossed, sinking into the worn cushions slightly as you adjusted. “I’m not flexible enough to do Lotus style,” you explained with an apologetic shrug.

“That's quite alright,” he told you with humor in his tone. “You only need to be comfortable enough to focus and listen. If it is alright, I thought that I would guide your first several sessions.”

“Oh, sure,” you agreed readily. “I trust you.”

“I’m very happy to hear that.” He was using that tone of voice that always made you feel so special, laden with affection and sincerity; it settled against your skin like sunshine. You felt like you could shine light from the inside out with how warm you felt for Zenyatta. 

“A keystone of mediation is breathing. Allow yourself to breathe deeply and naturally. As you do, focus on how your body moves with each inhale and exhale, your lungs expanding and relaxing.” Zenyatta’s voice was a sonorous, soothing presence as you began to pay attention to your breathing. The thought occurred to you that he didn’t even breathe, and yet here he was telling you how. You couldn’t restrain a quiet giggle.

“Focus,” came the gentle reprimand. “Imagine the tension in your body as dark, black smoke.” The image flashed in your mind and you winced, prompting Zenyatta to lay a grounding hand onto your knee. “Allow the tension to escape with every exhale. Push it from your body like fog, and feel the relaxation that follows.”

As you followed his instructions, muscles in your shoulders started to release by fragments. The air felt pleasant against your skin, and the couch was plush and comfortable. Zenyatta reached out and caressed your cheek, the contact sure and compassionate. 

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, the words soft. “I will take care of you.”

Relaxation ensconced you like a blanket as your heavy eyelids slid shut, the liquid darkness surrounding you. 

“All you need to do is follow my voice.” Zenyatta’s voice came through the dark, clear and certain. “Focus on your shoulders; feel how the muscles there are tensed, although you would not usually notice. As you continue to breathe, deep and even, allow them to relax…”

* * *

In the small hours of the morning you stirred awake from a dreamless sleep, feeling heavy, cozy, and safe. By stages, you realized that you were laying partially on top of Zenyatta, with your head against his chest and your torso framed by his legs. Pleasantly heavy arms held you in place and you relaxed, snuggling back in. The faint, light blue light of Zenyatta's optic array began to glow. It was scarcely enough to see by, but even at this hour he was watching over you. 

“I fell asleep,” you yawned, your voice seeming loud in the quiet stillness of the room. “M'sorry, I guess I didn’t meditate very well.”

“On the contrary, you relaxed so thoroughly that you fell asleep. That is not so bad for a first attempt.” He was teasing you, but the effect was lessened by how hushed, how tender his voice was. “No matter. We can try again another time.” A hand came up to cup the back of your head and you made a pleased sound as fingers rubbed circles against your scalp.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you. Literally.” Zenyatta chuckled, the sound vulnerable in the air between you.

“There is truly nowhere I would rather be than here.” The words made you flush and smile, your eyes slipping shut without your permission. The hand in your hair instead rubbed down your back in long strokes as Zenyatta murmured your name. “Go back to sleep, dear one. I will be here when you wake up.”

At his permission you slipped back under. Sleep came in heavy waves as you were held, safe, in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Hope all is well with everyone. School has started back up for me but I hopefully should have the time to update semiregularly! Thanks for staying with me, everyone starting to feel the "slow" in the slow burn? Gotta keep those embers burning!
> 
> If you liked this, please leave a kudos or a comment! This hit 100 kudos, which is buckwild. I'm so happy that people are liking this silly thing that I'm making.
> 
> Also! killamoth did a fanart for chapter 1 that's really gorgeous and I'm still in shock that someone was moved to make art of this. If you want to see it, I put it in the notes of chapter 1. Until next time, I love you guys! Take care of yourselves!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keep me informed about everything happening.” Her smile was that of the cat who caught the canary. “Every detail. Get involved with missions and meetings, share everything you hear with your new friend, Sombra.”

I don't know where you're going,  
But do you got room for one more troubled soul?  
I don't know where I'm going,  
But I don't think I'm coming home.  
And I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead,  
This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end.

* * *

Things were different around the Watchpoint lately, in some noticeable ways and in some subtle ways. 

One of the big ones was the group drills; you sat in on those sometimes out of curiosity, watching with awe from a shielded observation room as your friends coordinated flawlessly and executed complex maneuvers to defeat various simulations. In particular, you loved to watch Lena tear circles around everyone as she yelled with delight, taking out bot after bot in flashes of blue. Another perk was being able to witness Reinhardt in his Crusader armor, turning an already massive man into a gargantuan, imposing figure, wielding a hammer that was easily as tall as you. Really, you could go on: the sharp precision of Ana and Hanzo striking down enemies from a huge distance, the bubblegum pink of MEKA barreling around as Hana knocked enemies aside, and of course, the deadly grace with which Zenyatta pummeled enemies with blue orbs of destructive energy. You got to see something new: a dark purple orb very similar to the orb of harmony, except it appeared to cripple and cause hesitation in targets instead of healing them. It gave you a chill and you were grateful that you’d never be on the receiving end of it. 

You could tell that your companions were skilled and dangerous, and in a strange way it warmed your heart to see them work together so well. Sure, you felt kind of excluded since you were the only one not a part of it. Even Winston was part of the group, wielding a massive Tesla cannon and decked out in power armor. But you knew on a deep level that they would protect you, so you were happy to help them with all the behind the scenes work. 

But again, things had also changed in strange ways. People would sometimes stop talking when you entered rooms. There would be spans of a couple hours where you couldn’t find anyone, only for them to later reappear as if nothing had happened. You did feel alienated when that happened, but you put on a happy face regardless – there was probably a good reason that you weren’t privy to these things. 

You finished up work early, your to-do list finished more quickly than Winston planned it to be. As time passed, your knowledge grew, and you were sometimes astonished at how efficient you had become. An alert on your communicator this morning had told you that today was a training day, all hands on deck. Well, all except yours. The base was empty as you grabbed lunch from the kitchen and trekked back to your room. 

Something was wrong – you stopped short of the door. There was a small console by your room that controlled the door and that Athena could speak through. The active light on it was glowing pink, not the usual blue. As you checked the console over, you frowned. It didn’t seem to be damaged. Come to think of it, were you sure it was always blue? Maybe it had changed before, and you hadn’t noticed. 

You walked into the room, and the door slid home with a slam. Startled, you whirled around to look behind you. 

“Hey there,” said a low, amused voice. Seemingly out of thin air, there was a woman in front of you. She cut an intimidating figure, with faded purple hair and intricate cybernetic implants on her scalp. You opened your mouth to scream and she slapped a hand over your mouth. 

“Easy, _chica_. I’m not gonna hurt you.” She squeezed your cheeks derisively before letting her hand fall away. “Besides, I doubt anyone would hear you. They're all at the range.” With a swipe of a finger, an intangible screen appeared, showing the range and all the agents. 

Your mind went a million miles a second, scanning through your lessons with Angela to try and find a move that would let you get past her and out the door. 

She noticed your scrutiny and shook her head in disapproval. “Don’t try it. This door only opens for me. Now,” she put her hands on your shoulders and steered you towards your desk chair, “take a seat.”

With no other choice, you sat, glowering all the while. You didn’t even have your pistol on you, and you swore internally. With a smug expression, she perched on the edge of her bed, causing Turtle to stir awake. At the sight of the new person, the cat strode over and rubbed against her.

“Traitor,” you muttered under your breath. 

“No, no. Get off.” The person tried to remove Turtle from the bed with a gentle shove. Turtle ignored this, climbed into her lap, and flopped down with a purr, eliciting a grumble of annoyance. “Ugh. I’ll be sneezing all day now.”

You laughed. The scary intruder was allergic to cats, huh? “I take it back, baby. Good Turtle.”

The glare levelled at you was mitigated by the following sniff of a runny nose. “Anyway, who are you?” you asked. “What do you want?”

“Sombra. And I want to know if you’d be interested in a… trade.”

“Sombra?” The hacker collective that had exposed Lumérico? “But you’re just… a person. I thought Sombra was a group!” 

“Just one person,” she confirmed, smirking. “Don’t underestimate me. I already know practically everything there is to know about you. Which isn’t much.” You bristled as her voice lilted with mock pity. “I heard that Overwatch had taken in a charity case, some nobody student. I had to see for myself.”

Something clicked. “You’re with Talon, aren’t you? The attack the other day…”

“Oh, clever girl,” she crooned, pulling up several screens with sharp movements of her fingers. “The attack was a cover, so that I could get into your network and gut it,” she mentioned nonchalantly, flipping the screens so you could see them. 

You blanched as you skimmed the information: a complete database of Overwatch agents, mission files that were stamped as classified, internal reports. “Oh god.” The damage that this information could do in Talon’s hands, or even if it were released to the public…

“That’s right.” The screens minimized at her offhand gesture. “Lucky that Talon doesn’t have this intel, huh?”

What? “I don’t understand,” you muttered, confused.

“Come on, do you think I really need to be here to extract all of the information I need?” Sombra laughed. “That’s cute. I’ve had your entire database for a while.”

“What are you talking about?” you groaned. “You have all of that information, we’re screwed, got it. What do you even want?”

“I never said that Talon had access to your information. Only me.” Sombra leaned forward, almost predatory. “But I’m nothing if not generous. Here’s my deal: I won’t release this information to my bosses. I’ll tell them it’s corrupted or encrypted, and the information stays safe with me.”

“And what do I have to do?” you asked, wary of the catch.

“Keep me informed about everything happening.” Her smile was that of the cat who caught the canary. “Every detail. Get involved with missions and meetings, share everything you hear with your new friend, Sombra.”

You felt slightly nauseous – betray your allies? But the scope of the information she had was enormous. “What would you do with it? The information I get.”

“Oh, nothing,” Sombra hummed. “Information for information’s sake. No harm done to your friends, as long as you don’t tell them.”

This was a terrible choice to make; either option was a betrayal to the people who had taken you in and given you a new start. You had to choose the lesser of the two evils, and the words were bitter in your mouth. “Fine. I’ll take your deal.”

“That's a smart choice,” she commended, dumping Turtle gracelessly to the floor as she stood. “Aren’t you lucky to have a friend like me?” 

“Very,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I’ll be in touch.” With a victorious smile, she strode up to you and tapped your nose. “Boop.”

Sombra vanished in a blur of purple-pink pixels and a hiss of static.

* * *

When everyone came back from training, you were staring into space at the dining table, a mug of tea growing cold in front of you. Cheerful conversation flowed through the door as people entered.

“Ah, it is my turn to make dinner!” Reinhardt boomed cheerfully, donning his pink frilly apron. “It shall not disappoint!”

“Perhaps I may be of some help?” You were surprised to see Zenyatta step forward. 

Reinhardt also seemed surprised, but he recovered quickly. “Of course, my friend! I welcome the help.” Zenyatta was handed an apron covered with sunflowers. You weren’t sure why Reinhardt had so many aprons.

You heard the smooth scrape of Lúcio’s hard light skates sweeping up the hall before he slid into the room, coming to a halt by your chair. “What's up, pal!” He made sure you could clearly see him going to give your shoulder a light, playful punch. After the incident, Lúcio had been careful to not accidentally set you off, and you appreciated it.

“Hey!” you responded, a smile finding its way to your face. “Did you guys have a good session?” 

“You bet!” Lúcio kicked off his skates carelessly, earning a disapproving scowl from Ana, and sat down next to you. “Hey, let me know if I’m off base, but you seem kinda stressed. Is everything good?”

There was a spike of dread in your stomach so intense that you saw Zenyatta freeze, nearly dropping the bowl he was holding. Oh god, did he know? But he couldn’t know, right? You swallowed past a lump in your throat, your voice sounding strange as you replied, “Uh, maybe a little! Work has been, um, tricky lately.”

Winston overheard you and shot you a surprised look. “What do you mean? You’ve been doing amazing work! It’s really been a huge help.”

The nauseous feeling returned as you awkwardly laughed, saying, “Oh thank you! I guess it’s… hard to tell sometimes…” You desperately grasped for a subject change, found one, and seized on it in relief. “I mean, I’ve been feeling pretty lonely lately. You guys have been off by yourselves a lot these past few days, and I feel left out, I guess.” It was the truth, you realized as you said it, and it came out easily. 

“Aw, damn. I’m sorry about that.” Lúcio slung an arm around your shoulders and frowned, concerned. “I can see what you’re saying, but how about this? You and me and Hana should have another game session! I had a lot of fun last time.”

You felt awful. Here you were hiding an enormous, ugly secret that would break the trust of everyone in this room, and Lúcio was trying to make you feel better. “I’d like that,” you managed with a faint smile. 

Winston was looking at you critically, rubbing his furry chin with his hand. “It does seem silly for you to be the only one out of the know, now that I think about it.”

Jack looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “There’s good reason for that,” he said brusquely. “Only essential personnel should be privy to private information, it keeps the information safe and the innocents out of danger.” Any other day, you’d fight to know what was going on. But now that you were being extorted for sensitive information, you were inclined to agree with Jack.

But Winston’s eyes hardened. “Jack, I respect your opinion. However, it is ultimately my decision as the commander of Overwatch.”

The entire room had gone silent, and there was a lot of uncomfortable shuffling. Lena looked despairingly between Winston and Jack, while Reinhardt retreated into the kitchen. You knew that Jack used to be in charge, but you hadn’t realized that there was this much tension over it. “Ah, it’s really okay! It’s probably safer, I don’t mind!” you encouraged, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t be included in the secret meetings. You couldn’t give any information if you didn't have any, right?

Winston said your name firmly, and you shut your mouth. “I will consider it and let you know my decision. It may ultimately be safer if everyone here knows what's going on.” Winston stood and collected himself. “Sorry to excuse myself so quickly, but I need to continue working on my portable shield prototype.” With incredible poise, Winston exited the room.

After a few seconds, conversation resumed, and dinner preparations continued. You went to help as well, pushing yourself to assist any way you could. The night continued as normal, save for Jack's extreme reticence and the burn of disquiet at the back of your throat.

* * *

You hadn’t tried meditation again since the last attempt, but the meditation room was often one of the more peaceful places on the Watchpoint. Worrying about your situation near constantly had made you so tense, so you lit a stick of incense and curled up on the cushions, content to try and think about nothing for a while. 

The door opened and clicked shut, and you stirred from a light doze. You knew it was Zenyatta; anyone else would have immediately tried to get your attention. Instead, you heard the noises of him settling down on a pillow beside you. When you cracked your eyes open drowsily, you saw his hand stop in midair, a second away from settling on your head. He pulled it back sheepishly when you looked at him.

“What were you doing?” you asked, yawning.

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” he assured. “It was only that… well, your hair looked soft.” The confession was quiet and almost shy, and you were endeared.

“I don’t mind you touching my hair, Zen,” you said kindly, getting the distinct impression that he enjoyed playing with your hair more than he would admit. You grabbed his hand and lightly placed it on your head. After a moment's hesitation, Zenyatta ran his fingers through the strands, eliciting a pleased hum from you.

Time passed in silence and you nearly drifted off again before he spoke. “Yesterday, in the kitchen, I sensed that you were feeling considerable distress. Would you like to talk about it?”

The awful guilty feeling rose in your stomach again, and the way he tensed up let you know that Zenyatta had felt that too. You did your best to stamp it down, murmuring, “Not right now, if that’s okay.”

“That's quite alright. However, remember that I am always happy to help.” There was a hint of disappointment there and your heart ached. You didn’t deserve this. 

The tips of his fingers skated down the back of your neck and you sighed, the thought forgotten. “I came to ask something of you, actually,” Zenyatta mentioned. “It is my turn to retrieve supplies from the town down the mountain. Would you like to come with me? I do not believe you’ve been, and it’s rather charming.”

You perked up at that - you'd only caught a glimpse of it on your way in, and for whatever reason your name was never in the grocery shopping rotation. “I'd love to!” you exclaimed, scrambling to your feet. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Take all the time you need.”

* * *

The town was picturesque, with worn stone streets and bright, blocky buildings lining the squares. It wasn’t nearly as busy in the winter as it would be in later months, but there were still enough crowds that you and Zenyatta could blend right in.

Zenyatta had traded his robes for a flowing white shirt and slim black pants, and you were having a hard time keeping your eyes off him. The outfit was simple, but you hadn’t ever seen him without robes. You committed the image to memory, internally admiring how elegant he looked, and how handsome. You had toyed with that adjective when it came to mind, but as you watched Zenyatta effortlessly cut a path through the crowd, you realized that it was spot-on. After some consideration, you had dressed up some: a nice, comfy blouse and pants that weren’t jeans. You were now happy that you did. 

After you nearly fell behind one too many times, you gently grabbed the hem of Zenyatta's shirt to stay connected. With a laugh that reminded you of wind chimes, he instead took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. You could feel a blush rising in your cheeks and you looked down with a silly grin. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as the two of you turned onto a quieter side street.

“There is a shop up here that I think you might like, and a friend that I would like you to meet.” His tone was a bit mischievous, and your curiosity was piqued. 

“And here I thought we were getting groceries,” you teased, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“Oh, we certainly are,” he said innocently. “However, I believe that breaks are of vital importance to one's mental health. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“I can’t argue with that.” As the two of you turned onto a wider street, you caught a flash of pink at the corner of your eye – was that her? You came to a dead stop, your pulse skyrocketing as the crowd grumbled in annoyance and began to move around you. Zenyatta made a low, concerned murmur and carefully pulled you to the side, out of the busy street. 

“I know that there is something troubling you.” Zenyatta brushed some hair away from your face tenderly, and then placed a comforting hand against your arm. “I also know that you do not wish to talk about it, not yet.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, and then kicked yourself. Zenyatta had encouraged you to try and stop apologizing on impulse, but progress was slow.

“Peace, dear one.” His tone was chiding, but gentle. “Perhaps this is selfish, but I would like you to stay here, in this moment, with me. It pains me to see you troubled. I wish to lessen that, if only for a while. Have no doubt – I will keep you safe.”

The gold of his plating caught the sun and he was stunning, the contrast beautiful against soft white fabric. You focused on that and tried to breathe slow, calming yourself down. It worked to an extent, but his heartfelt words had made you feel a more than a little flustered. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach intensified, but in a more pleasant way than the previous fear. 

You leaned forward and placed your forehead to his. The small contact made your blush darker, but also brought some comfort. Zenyatta fleetingly cupped his hand to your cheek, and then reclaimed your hand to began guiding you again. 

Chatter in several different languages and the sound of seagulls was a pleasant backdrop of noise as you continued into the center of town. There was a beach here, and you could just smell the ocean over the smell of baking bread. Zenyatta pulled you to a stop in front of a nondescript building the color of red clay and pulled the door open for you. 

The smell of baking, sweets, and coffee washed over you as you entered, and you became excited as you realized where you were. It was a bakery, bustling with activity as several workers worked on different stages of several types of pastries. A couple more workers at the counter fielded orders and made coffee. 

You were eager to press your face against the pastry case, but Zenyatta instead guided you to the far end of the room. “Earlier, I mentioned someone that I would like you to meet,” he explained, gesturing at a lined wooden box on the ground. Perplexed, you leaned over and peered in. 

Zenyatta's friend was a dog, a medium sized mutt with ears that naturally stood straight up and soft fur the color of sand. When she saw you, her tail began to wag, whacking rhythmically against the blankets covering the bottom of the box. You noticed that she was heavily pregnant; her belly was huge and round with puppies, and she almost glowed in the amber lights of the bakery.

The thrilled, strangled noise that escaped you was beyond your control, and you got on your knees beside the box, heart full. “Hi, sweet girl,” you cooed, gingerly offering your hand to the expecting dog. She sniffed your hand enthusiastically and gave it a few licks, obviously trusting you to treat her and her unborn puppies kindly. Irrationally you began to tear up as you carefully laid a hand to her belly, gasping in delight when you could feel the puppies wiggling against your palm.

“Her name is Ines,” Zenyatta told you, visibly pleased to see you so excited. “She is due any day now. I wasn’t sure whether she would have given birth yet, but regardless. Do you like her?”

“Zen, I love her. You have no idea.” Ines's mouth fell open into a wonderful doggy grin as you rubbed her behind the ears, and your cheeks hurt a little from how much you were smiling. 

After a few minutes, Zenyatta laid a hand on your shoulder. “We should let her sleep. She will need all the rest she can get.”

“Ah, you're right,” you conceded, disappointed. “Ines, I love you! You’re going to be such a great mom,” you told the dog earnestly, giving her a final pet before you stood. 

There was an older woman watching you from over the counter as you straightened up, obviously checking to make sure you weren’t bothering Ines. “Hello,” you said sheepishly. 

Zenyatta stepped up beside you and introduced you. “This is Talia, the owner of the bakery.” To your surprise, Zenyatta slipped into fluent Spanish. It had been years since your last Spanish class; you could only understand a handful of words, but Talia recognized Zenyatta and greeted him warmly. It made sense, now that you thought about it, that it would be fairly easy for omnics to pick up other languages. Zenyatta’s Spanish had the same smooth, synthetic, soothing tone as his English did. To be honest, listening to him speak was doing things to you, especially when you heard your name being spoken. Talia turned to you and said your name, followed by what you assumed was a greeting. You returned a greeting that Zenyatta translated, and Talia smiled at you before excusing herself to continue running the bakery. 

“I met Talia a month ago, the last time I was here,” Zenyatta informed, answering your questioning look before you could ask. 

“How did you find this place? I mean, you don’t need to eat.”

“Talia was out in one of the squares, desperately hoping to find someone with veterinary knowledge,” Zenyatta explained as you followed him back to the pastry case. “Ines was sick, and it was becoming dire. I do not usually treat animals, but luckily I was able to partially treat her and give some guidance that would bring her back to health.” Zenyatta chuckled and added, “In the process, I discovered that she was pregnant. Talia and her wife are relieved that Ines recovered and eager to see her puppies born.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you marveled, touched. How was Zenyatta so unendingly sweet and generous? You couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“I’m told that these pastries are excellent, although I cannot confirm that as a fact,” Zenyatta joked, and began to name and describe the pastries for you. You eventually settled on one called a pestiño: a fried pastry glazed with honey that looked delectable behind the glass. As you looked over the other pastries in wonder, Zenyatta snuck around you and paid for your pastry and a coffee, plus a few separate pastries for later. 

“Hey!” you protested as you saw Zenyatta get his change and a receipt. “I can pay for it, I have enough money.” 

“It is no trouble, and I’m happy to treat you,” Zenyatta told you, amicably shutting you down. A table opened by the window and Zenyatta led you over, even pulling out your chair for you. 

As you sat, a thought began to niggle at the back of your mind. Just the two of you, at a bakery, and he bought your food and pulled out the chair. Was… was this a date? 

Conversation flowed naturally for a while as you nibbled at the pestiño (which was delicious) and sipped the coffee (which was equally delicious). Even so, your mind kept turning over the same idea like a worry stone: was this a date? Surely not, you immediately dismissed. You couldn’t even begin to hope that Zenyatta felt that way about you, but nevertheless, the combination of hope and nerves made your heart pound and your palms sweaty. 

You were holding Zenyatta’s hand, and you weren’t sure exactly when that had happened. It felt natural, comfortable, although it did still make you blush when you noticed. 

“I have something to confess in the interest of transparency,” Zenyatta mentioned, tracing a mindless pattern on the table top with his fingertips.

Your heart just about stopped. “Oh?”

“You are aware that I can sense your disquiet acutely, much more so than others.”

“…yes? You told me that a little after I came to the Watchpoint.”

“Exactly. Lately, my ability to sense your emotions is not limited to negative feelings.” You shot him a confused look and he elaborated, “I have been getting flashes of other feelings, namely happiness. At first, I was not sure it was happening for sure – it was barely detectable. But just a moment ago, when you spent time with Ines, there was a wave of joy that I could feel quite clearly.”

“Oh.” Whatever you were expecting, this wasn’t it. “What does that mean? It hasn’t happened before, right?”

“It has not.” Zenyatta thought for a moment, looking at you intensely as he did. “These things, these exceptions, they have only happened around you. You are somehow special, and I am not sure why.”

This revelation made you feel strange, but not bad. You puzzled over it for a minute, fiddling with the paper sleeve of the coffee cup. Honestly, if it were anyone else, it would feel weird. But with Zenyatta…

“Well,” you broke the silence. “This is obviously kinda strange. But, if I trusted anyone with my feelings – it would be you, Zen.”

Zenyatta’s faceplate didn’t change, but the tender enunciation of your name and the tilt of his head made you think he was smiling. “That makes me incredibly happy. I was worried that this would drive you away.”

“Um, Zenyatta.” You bolstered all your confidence – you were going to ask, god damn it, even of you couldn't quite eliminate the stutter from your voice. 

“Yes?” Maybe you were projecting, but Zenyatta seemed to have been anticipating your question, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hand.

“Is this… is this a – ”

“Fuckin’ omnics. They’re everywhere, can't even get away from ‘em.”

The snide voice cut across the ambient sounds of the bakery and you stopped cold. You turned and pinpointed the voice: it was a man, probably mid twenties, with a buddy. Both were looking right at you and Zenyatta. 

Zenyatta had heard that as well; he tilted his head in consideration, appearing to contemplate a decision, before standing and offering his hand. “We should probably move on,” he said calmly. “The grocery store is not far, and we should not stay out too late.”

You automatically took the outstretched hand and Zenyatta helped you up. There was an incredulous snort from the direction of the heckler. “And that girl! Dating a damn omnic like she’s out of options,” jeered the other man. These two had the attention of the workers and several of the patrons, none of whom seemed alright with the bigotry they were spouting.

You noticed that Zenyatta noticeably tensed at that comment, and this time you were the one that coaxed Zenyatta towards the exit. His hand around yours tightened as you skirted the instigators, and then you were out the door. There was a split second where the weight of reality pressed down on you; you’d forgotten that there were people so prejudiced against omnics, and it stung to realize that there were people that would hate Zenyatta without even knowing him.

That moment stopped when your contemplation was split by the sound of the bells on the bakery door. Without turning around, you knew it was them.

A harsh voice rung out, “Hey lady, why the hell are you going around with that… that _machine_?” You walked quicker, tugging Zenyatta along when he seemed to want to turn and face the harassers. 

“Frigid bitch, I'm talking to you!” A hand landed on your shoulder hard, knocking you off balance. 

This triggered a specific memory. 

You felt Angela grabbing you from behind during your self defense lessons as she taught you the same move that she has used on you earlier. 

On complete muscle memory, you seized the offending forearm and fell to a knee, for a fleeting instant holding the man's weight on your back. With a considerable effort, you slammed the man onto his back in front of you. He wheezed as he hit the ground hard, veins in his forehead bulging in rage. There was a collective shout from the surrounding crowd and a space quickly cleared around you. 

While you were reeling over the fact that you had just flipped a person over your shoulder, Zenyatta stepped between you and the two men, urging you back. The orbs around his neck flashed with blue light and spiraled dizzyingly fast. Zenyatta settled into a pose that you were pretty sure was a martial arts stance.

“It pains me that you hold such prejudice,” came his voice, smooth and cold as ice. “Believe that I would much prefer to sit down and speak to you, soul to soul, person to person.” At that, the man that you had not flipped affected a scathing scowl. “When you lay a hand on the people that I hold dear… You will find that I will do anything to keep them safe.” Steadily, his hand drew back, ready to strike destructive energy out against them if they continued to attack. “To keep her safe. I do not wish to hurt you – please, stand down.” 

The guy you’d flipped stood up, slow and menacing. You fell further back behind Zenyatta. A glance towards the shop window gave you eye contact with Talia. “Help,” you mouthed, terrified that Zenyatta would get hurt – he was outnumbered, and would likely pull his punches.

The two men exchanged glances. One of them pulled a pocket knife. They began to circle around to flank Zenyatta, but then the door to the bakery burst open. A couple of the workers rushed out and yelled in harsh Spanish at the offenders. A bystander used the distraction to kick the guy wielding a pocket knife in the back of his knee, making him crumple and drop the knife. Someone else knocked the knife far away. Suddenly outnumbered, the two slunk away into the crowd, making you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Talia came out, concern furrowing her brow. “Are… are you good?” she asked you in halting English. 

“Yes, thank you!” you laughed, slightly hysterical with relief. She smiled at you before saying something to Zenyatta in Spanish. Zenyatta’s stance relaxed, and the orbs settled back around his neck as he responded. You were surprised as Talia walked up and hugged him. He embraced her, his tone thankful. You heard your name again, and you were dying to know what he was saying about you. 

“We should get groceries, right?” you reminded him when there was a lull in conversation. “It’ll get dark soon.”

“You are right. We would not want our friends to worry.” Zenyatta thanked Talia and the couple of bystanders who had helped, and you both headed towards the grocery store.

* * *

The sun had already set when you got back to the Watchpoint, laden with food and supplies in reusable shopping bags. Together you worked on unpacking the food in the kitchen, chatting lightheartedly as you put groceries in the fridge, cabinets, and pantry. 

“Hey, Zenyatta,” you blurted out, unable to contain it. “I was really scared earlier. I really thought that you were going to get hurt.” Strangely nervous, you didn’t make eye contact, instead focusing on where all the different canned foods had to go in the pantry. 

So, you were startled when arms wrapped around you from behind, squeezing you gently around the middle. “I am sorry that I worried you,” came the murmur, close to your ear. Goosebumps shot straight down your spine. “In the moment, I was worried for you, and I acted recklessly by issuing a threat.” Zenyatta released you, the embrace short but sincere. “Despite my best efforts, I am not perfect. No one is. But I will always attempt to do better.”

You contemplated that as you continued to stow the dry goods. Shyly, you murmured, “I don’t think you’re perfect, Zen. But I think you’re wonderful.”

Zenyatta stuttered and raised a hand to his face, his internal fans kicking into high gear. There was a click in your mind as you realized that you had flustered him, that he would be blushing if he could. 

That made you smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! How about some plot, huh? I hope you guys like it, I had this little twist in mind for a while and I think that now's the time to get the ball rolling. 
> 
> Thank you allso much for reading! If you guys like the story thus far, a comment or kudos would mean a lot to me. They make me really happy and more inspired to continue putting in good work on this thing.
> 
> Also, this is a little silly, but you may have noticed that I like to put bits of lyrics/poetry at the top of the chapter. If you have any song/etc that you think would fit the tone of the story, feel free to share it and I'll check it out. :)
> 
> As always, take care of yourselves! When's the last time you drank water? Go pound some, I'm rooting for you! See you next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s no way he didn’t see what he was doing to you, you thought dizzily. Was there?

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight,  
I can't wait 'til the morning has come  
And I know that the time is just right,  
And straight into my arms you will run.

* * *

As the sun broke over the Watchpoint, brilliantly orange and pink, Zenyatta stirred, a full power notification blinking behind his optics. He disconnected the charging cord from the back of his head and stood. The time it took to don his usual attire and sandals was a time of quiet reflection and thought for the day to come. When he was done, he left his sparse but comfortable room to begin his routine. 

As he emerged onto the roof, the statistics at the corner of his optic loadout informed him that it was 18 degrees Celsius, humidity was at 73%, and that it would most likely rain in the evening. That was good to know; he tended the roof garden meticulously and watered the plants lightly, enough to get them through the day until it rained. 

Zenyatta stepped to the edge of the roof and admired the view. Every day he was met with this stunning view, and every day he was grateful. The sun reflected off of swells of water in shards of light, and the cry of gulls was faint in the air. 

“Hello, world.”

It was something he said every morning. To be honest, it was a little silly. But he had heard that when learning a coding language, that was generally the first thing one learned how to program. There was pleasing symmetry in that. After all, he was a product of coding and engineering. There was, however, something else: a soul, just like any other person. Zenyatta embraced both parts. 

With the distant crash of waves as a pleasant backdrop, Zenyatta neatly folded his legs and began to meditate. The orbs around his neck blossomed and spun lazily as he imbued them with energy, chiming quietly as they orbited. 

In the depths of meditation, he considered the day you had spent together, turning it over and over like a worry stone between worn metal palms. _I think you’re wonderful _, your voice floated across his memory banks, clear and sweet as when you said it – an advantage to having memory like a computer.__

Every time he replayed it, his core processor grew warm and his internal fans whirred as they sped up. The external sensors covering his body thrummed like live wires when you were near, and every brush of fabric or touch of skin burned into his memory banks to be carefully revisited and enjoyed. The physical sensation of affection was surely different between humans and omnics, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you ever felt this way around him.

Like a vibration in the air, something intangible made itself known to Zenyatta, demanding his attention. It was you, some emotion travelling through space for him to receive. At first, the feeling had been strange and worrying. Receiving these impulses triggered strange, inexplicable sensations much different than the ones his mechanical body felt and seemingly bypassing any sensory receptors to just, well, happen. The term “gut feeling” resonated the most, but without a gut to speak of, the experience evaded description.

Like a letting a butterfly land on one's hand, Zenyatta reached out with his mind to welcome the emotion into himself. To his surprise, the feeling shot through him like electricity: a visceral need, the desire to have, the image of sinking his fingers into soft skin. A ghost of pleasure flickered, so different than the kind felt when he stroked his own sensors but enough to evoke a low, unbidden noise from his voice box. 

In a flash, the feeling was gone and Zenyatta reeled in its absence. That was… new. Unexpected. A drastic change from the emotions he usually felt from you, and he had a good idea of what it was. 

Against his better judgement, curiosity took hold. The impulse to confirm his suspicion was strong. No, he reasoned. If it was what he thought it was, you might not want company. Rationally, he should leave you be alone and continue his routine. 

However, despite his outwardly calm appearance, rationality did not always win; after all, he wasn’t perfect. As he began the walk to your room, he sorted through some of his own emotions, examining them with a critical eye. Curiosity, yes, but there was something else there, growing flowers from the affection he held for you. There was also a small measure of jealousy that he couldn’t quite parse – jealous of what? The regular tap of wooden sandals against metal floors made little noise in the empty hallways of the Watchpoint. This was probably not a good idea, Zenyatta acknowledged as he walked, but now it almost felt as of there was a string tied around his center that pulled him to you.

There weren’t any people in this section of the building so early. Zenyatta approached your door, hesitant now, unsure but with an urge to confirm what he suspected. As his hand was suspended in midair, ready to knock, a nearly imperceptible noise made it past the metal door. Zenyatta paused, allowing the volume of his audio input to increase so that he could hear better.

A breathy exhale that edged on a squeak. The jealousy spiked, and this time he understood – he was jealous of whatever caused you to be in this state. So close to you, he could feel the emotion quite clearly: arousal, as he had expected. Proximity had a curious effect, because sparks of pleasure tugged at Zenyatta like fingers across strings, and he repressed a desperate sound. He knew that he should leave but he couldn’t convince his legs to agree with that decision.

A bitten off whine made his fans kick into overdrive and he began to try and close off his mind to the constant stream of arousal that you were unknowingly putting off, but he was too close and the feeling was too strong. Again there was the instinctive urge to grip you and hold you to him, to be the relief that you so desperately needed. 

With a low, plaintive voice, you began to form syllables. “Z-Zen…. Fuck, _Zen_ \- ”

This was an awful idea. Zenyatta knew he needed to leave that instant. But even as that conclusion was made, his knuckles hit the door to knock, unable to resist the his name combined with the onslaught of pleasure you were projecting. With a feeling of falling, Zenyatta rapped on the door and called your name back.

* * *

You gasped and tensed, your fingers working quick, small circles over your clit as heat coiled tighter and tighter in your belly. In the depth of your fantasy, Zenyatta held you tight against his front with one hand, frame hot and solid as his other hand expertly worked your sex. Encouraging murmurs in his rich, low voice echoed around in your head and you brought a hand up to tweak a nipple, letting out a desperate, high-pitched sound. 

A whine escaped your throat as you neared orgasm, pleasure swirling hot and bright in your veins. Your toes curled into the bedding as you redoubled your efforts, words tripping out of your mouth. “Z-Zen…. Fuck, _Zen_ \- ”

A tentative knock as the door ripped you away from your imminent end with a gasp. You scrambled to make yourself decent as you heard Zenyatta (of course, of all people) call your name.

“Just a second!” you called, slightly panicked as you fumbled your pajamas back on, bashing your foot on the nightstand in the process.

“Fuck!” you swore loudly, doubling over in pain at your stubbed pinky toe.

“Are you alright?” Zenyatta’s voice rang through the metal.

“I’m fine, just stubbed my toe.” Now properly dressed (if pajamas counted as dressed), you padded over to the door, opened it, and wow Zenyatta was standing really close.

Oh. Oh no. Had he heard you? You blanched – you were pretty sure the doors would stop a lot of noises, but you hadn’t been paying attention to your volume. And, shit, you hadn’t thought to put on a bra; your nipples were still peaked and you did your best to cross your arms nonchalantly. A flush settled across your cheeks as you stammered, “Hey, Zen! What’s going on?”

Zenyatta stood stock still and studied you, making you even more worried that he had heard you. “Um. Zenyatta?” you laughed nervously, and reached out to put your hand on his upper arm. As the skin of your hand brushed smooth metal, Zenyatta jerked like you had shocked him and you withdrew your hand. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, hesitant.

Zenyatta said your name again, but his voice was low and rough in a way you couldn’t fully describe if someone asked. The sound of it sent heat straight down your spine and between your legs, evoking a deep pulse of want in your lower stomach. Your thighs reflexively pressed together, and you were reminded of how absolutely soaked still you were. For a fleeting moment, you thought of dragging him into your room. It was a very bad idea but damn if the thought wasn’t tempting.

After a moment, Zenyatta visibly shook himself, and when he spoke again it was in his normal placid tone.

“My apologies, I was lost in thought for a moment,” Zenyatta hummed, tilting his head in greeting. “I wished to ask whether you would like to spend time with me after you finish work.”

“Oh! Sure, I'd like that.” Near humiliation all but forgotten, you shot him a bright smile. “Sorry about answering the door in PJ’s, I just woke up.” 

“Is that so?” Zenyatta murmured, almost to himself, and you blushed. “But worry not. You look as lovely as ever, maybe even more so.”

There was no way he wasn’t poking fun at your matching pajama set and you affected a pout. “Don’t tease me,” you moped, stifling a smile. “I need to get dressed, though. I’ll see you later?” 

“Of course. Have a good day.”

* * *

Zenyatta meditated for a long time. And then some more. And then some more. Genji had stopped by his room for their usual tea time (in which he drank tea while Zenyatta just held the cup between his hands) to find Zenyatta so deep in meditation that he couldn’t rouse him. So he joined, meditated, and finished only to find his master _still_ meditating, at which point he gave up and left. 

It was some time in the afternoon when Zenyatta finally surfaced, having sorted through the experience and his feelings. The clip of you moaning his name had been thoroughly dissected: volume increased, background noise removed, and listened to over and over again until Zenyatta could confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that yes, it was his name on your lips. (The entire sound file was given a place of honor in his memory.)

But more than that, a decision had been made and he was ready to put it into action.

Lena was snoring in an armchair with a mug of earl grey cooling on the table and the remains of lunch piled beside it. A gentle shake made her startle awake with a snort. 

“’M not sleeping, I just just closing my eyes for a tick – oh Zenyatta, it’s you. I thought you were Jack.” She yawned, stretching. “What can I do for ya?”

“Lena, you are a dear friend. I have always admired your attitude and valued your advice.”

“Ooo, starting with a little pandering, huh? You sure know the way to a girl’s heart.” Lena grinned and leaned forward, intrigued. “Whatcha need?”

“This is a matter of utmost discretion.”

“Oh love, I would never,” Lena said quite seriously, waving off the implication that she would spill a secret. “Now, are you gonna tell me or what?”

“You’re in a relationship with a woman.”

“Is… that a question? I mean, yeah, I am. Emily's my girl.” Lena smiled.

“I assume that at times, you’ve had sexual encounters with her.”

Lena spluttered and looked indignant. “What! What kind of question is that?! It’s none of your business – ” Her mouth suddenly snapped shut and her eyes narrowed in thought. Then, like a switch being flipped, the dour expression evaporated and her face lit up. “Oh! Oh, this is about - ”

Zenyatta hushed her as her volume steadily increased. Lena quieted but she still had a Cheshire grin on her face as she sing-songed, “This is about _her_ , yeah? Your cute engineer friend that you fancy?”

“I never mentioned that I – ” Zenyatta cut himself off abruptly. “I would rather not say,” Zenyatta finished in a tone that all but confirmed, yes, he was talking about you. 

Lena waggled her eyebrows. “So, looking for tips and tricks, eh? Gonna try and woo her, see if she’s up for it? Learn the finer details of – ”

“Please stop.”

Lena continued like she hadn't been interrupted. “You’ve come to just the right girl! Don’t you worry love, I’ll get you right up to speed.” She slung her arm over Zenyatta's shoulders and gave an exaggerated wink. “I reserve the right to tease you ‘bout it, though.”

* * *

You squinted and moved the light so you could see into the engine more clearly. Winston had you working on one of the older forklifts that had been stalling frequently as of late. It didn’t help that you still couldn't clear your mind of what happened this morning. Likely due to the interruption, your arousal was on a hair trigger, and your mind was happy to supply any number of fantasies. Again, you pushed away the errant thoughts to focus on the task at hand. 

“Gotcha,” you muttered as you found the problem, reaching out to grab your kit only to have it handed to you.

“Winston, I didn’t even hear you!” you greeted, taking the toolbox from his outstretched hand. Lately he had mostly been working on the Aurora ship in the hangar, so you hadn’t seen him too much.

“What can I say? Gorillas are built for stealth,” he quipped with a grin, making you giggle. “Did you find the problem?”

“Yeah, the solenoid coil’s corroded so the valves aren’t opening.” You began to go through the steps to remove it as Winston pulled up a chair. The silence was companionable, broken occasionally by Winston giving a tip.

After you had successfully replaced the solenoid coil, Winston gave you an impressed thumbs up. “Great job! You’ve really come a long way.”

“Thanks, Winston!” You brushed the grime on your hands off on your jeans and accepted a congratulatory fist bump.

“In all seriousness, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Winston waited patiently as you dragged up your own chair and sat. 

“What's going on?” you asked, giving Winston some time to formulate his thoughts.

“Well… Our next briefing is in a couple days. And I, uh, want you to be there.” Winston smiled and your heart sank.

Desperately you grasped for a reason to decline. “Oh! B-but, wasn’t Jack worried about it? I don’t really want to drive a wedge between anyone.” You worried your lip and did your best to look contrite. 

Winston snorted. “With all respect to Jack, he's still acting like it’s old Overwatch. Back then, there were tons of employees and it made sense to keep secrets. But so far, well, it’s just you.” Looking a little guilty, he added. “I didn’t consider that you would feel left out, and I’m sorry about that.”

You softened, feeling extremely guilty yourself. Winston had always been so sweet to you, so considerate. He continued, “In addition, in the situation that something goes sideways, I believe it would be safer for you to know what was going on.”

There wasn’t anything else you could do without making him suspicious. “Thanks, Winston,” you said, subdued. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

You resolved to do anything you could to extricate yourself from the Sombra situation.

* * *

1 unread message. You’d been staring at the email client for at least ten minutes now, staring with rising dread at the notification, blinking innocently on the screen.

1 unread message.

You bit the bullet and opened the email. 

Subject: ¿qué onda?  
Message: hey there chica. any news? 

The signature was a picture of a pink sugar skull. Of course it was Sombra, and right after you got the news from Winston.

What if you could just…

You clicked the Mark As Spam button. With a satisfying whoosh, the email zipped into the spam folder, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

Of course, it could never be so easy.

A chat window popped open in the corner – you didn’t even think this email client had a chat function. In the same moment, a flash of pink eclipsed your screen, and when it cleared the email theme had been changed to garishly bright pinks and purples.

sombra: jajajajaja seriously?  
sombra: that’s funny.  
sombra: i'll show you spam. 

There was a split second of nothing, and then your inbox flooded with emails. Quasi-religious ramblings, cock growth ads, bank transfer scams, and so many more were ticking the unread email count upwards at an alarming rate. Another second and you started getting pop-ups, mostly of the “hot singles in your area” variety. You frantically hurried to close all of them, which was nearly impossible because more came up for every one you closed. Finally, you were able to get back to the chat window. 

helluvaengineer: i'm sorry i’m sorry please stop!!!

After a beat, the pop-ups stopped popping up and new emails stopped coming in.

sombra: don’t do it again. i expect a reply next time.

Your screen flashed and your email theme was back in place. Now there were 413 unread emails. Jesus. 

It took you 20 minutes and a lot of clicking to clear all of the ads and put all of those emails in spam. Well, at least you tried, right? You groaned and put your head in your hands.

* * *

Earlier, when Zenyatta had asked to spend time with you later, you figured he had meant something like walking around the Watchpoint and chatting, or maybe giving meditation another shot. So when he led you into a recreation room you hadn’t seen before, you were a little surprised. It was small and cozy, most of the space taken up by a love seat, two end tables, and an old TV with a box of even older movie discs.

“I thought that it may be nice to relax for an evening,” Zenyatta said, stepping to the side and smoothly slid a hand across your lower back as you passed through the doorway. The casual touch sent a thrill through you, making your heart skip a beat. 

“Y-yeah! Sounds good.” There was that stammer again, and you consciously suppressed it before you spoke again. “So, are we watching a movie?”

“If that’s alright with you?” Zenyatta actually sounded a little worried, and you softened

“That sounds perfect,” you assured. 

“Excellent.” He sounded relieved, and gestured towards the box. “Would you like to pick the movie?”

“Sure!” You began rummaging through the box, smiling nostalgically at all of the old movies you recognized. “Wow, these are ancient. Why do we have all of these?”

“I believe it is because Reinhardt is a fan of the classics,” Zenyatta hummed good naturedly. “Would you want some wine, by chance? I have noticed that you like red.”

You looked up from the collection in surprise. “Oh, um, you don't have to!”

“That isn't what I asked,” Zenyatta chided playfully, and then his voice lowered. “If you want anything, you need only ask.” 

Your mind inserted a double entendre there that made you feel a little warm, and suddenly your mouth was very dry. “If you don’t mind, then I’d like some wine. Please.”

“Wonderful,” Zenyatta approved, and was that a hint of praise in his voice? “I will be right back.”

As Zenyatta retreated down the hallway, you took a moment to collect yourself. Don’t read into things so much, you reminded yourself. But you couldn’t get rid the warm, solid weight of desire that you held; desire for physical contact, yes, but also for his attention and affection. 

An especially old case caught your attention and you pulled it out: The Sound of Music. It was practically ancient, over a hundred years old. But even still, the title evoked a few melodies that you had somehow heard before. You pulled it out of the box and set it up to play. When Zenyatta had come back you were making yourself comfortable on the loveseat.

You accepted the proffered red wine with a shy smile. “Thanks, Zen.”

“It was no trouble.” He settled beside you and wow, you hadn’t realized how small this loveseat was. Your leg was flush with Zenyatta’s, making some warmth rise in your cheeks. The wine was sweet and you took a long sip. 

The lights in the room were dim as the movie started. Both you and Zenyatta flinched as the audio blasted out of the speakers, at least three times too loud. “The remote, where’s the remote?” you shouted over the opening credits. Before he could respond, you spotted it on Zenyatta's end table and leaned far over him, snagging the remote and mashing the volume down button. 

You laughed and relaxed, the volume now at a much more acceptable level. It took you a moment to notice that your scramble to get the remote had ended with you practically laying across Zenyatta's lap. Zenyatta was looking down at you with an air of shock, holding the wine that he had rescued from spilling in one hand.

In an attempt to defuse the situation, you gave an exaggerated stretch, complete with satisfied sigh, and joked, “Would you believe me if I said this was actually pretty comfortable?”

“Is that so?” Zenyatta wondered aloud. His tone of voice was unexpectedly heady and again it shot straight down your spine. “If that is the case, you’re more than welcome to stay there.”

“Yeah,” you croaked, and then cleared your throat. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Zenyatta held your wine while you settled and pulled a pillow over to support your back. The movie was beautiful and you were drawn into it, although your heart stayed high and fast in your throat. Occasionally you snuck glances at Zenyatta from the corner of your eye, struck every time by the proximity of his face to yours.

Zenyatta’s hand moved to lay on your stomach and you held your breath, blush growing brighter in the dark of the room. You were kicking yourself - you'd cuddled with Zenyatta before, why did you feel like a rubber band about to snap? The proximity was making you feel almost drunk, and the glass of wine you finished wasn't helping in that regard.

So, so slowly, the hand on your stomach started to move. Seemingly absentmindedly, Zenyatta traced his fingers in deliberate patterns across the fabric of your shirt, alternating between light brushes and slow strokes. This felt completely different from the other ways he usually touched you; this felt purposeful and worshipful, and you caught yourself before you arched up into the touches.

You completely stopped paying attention to the movie, living in the feeling of fingertips moving across your skin. Each soft caress kindled sweet and hot in your stomach, and a particularly firm drag of fingers made you stifle a gasp. Zenyatta seemed unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on your libido, faceplate turned towards the movie as you turned into putty in his lap.

This went on for an achingly long time. You barely absorbed the plot of the movie as Zenyatta kept up his ministrations, petting you like a cat, and damn if you weren’t about to purr for him. Arousal was running thick in your veins and your nerves felt raw and open, eager to receive his touch.

What was this? You felt like you were about to combust from the simple touch of a hand on your stomach. The feeling was one you thought was lost to you in middle school, where an accidental brush of hands could fill you with longing and make your pulse skyrocket, but here you were about to crawl out of your skin because Zenyatta was _touching you_.

Bit by bit, the path of his fingers drew lower, inching closer to your waistband. You realized that you had stopped breathing and gasped in a breath. Did he just not notice? He probably was just doing this absentmindedly; after all, wasn’t he doing this the other day on your not-date, except on the table top and not your extremely sensitive belly?

Your shirt had ridden up slightly; you didn’t know this until warm metal skimmed across your skin, making you let out a small, undignified squeak. Zenyatta quietly hushed you, pressing into your flesh gently and you shuddered, a pulse of arousal in your clit making you squeeze your thighs together. There’s no way he didn’t see what he was doing to you, you thought dizzily. Was there? His hand pressed flush against you, his littlest finger skimming the waistband of your pants, and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing up into the contact, your lips parting as you panted out a breath.

Zenyatta was looking at you now, blue optics glowing dim in the dark room. “Oh, sweet thing,” he murmured, teasing his finger across the interface of fabric and skin, and a whine tore out of your throat, the endearment fluttering in your chest like a caught bird.

“Holy shit, is that the Sound of Music?”

Lúcio appeared in the doorway with no warning and you nearly shouted in surprise. Zenyatta nonchalantly removed his hand from your person and you felt like someone had doused you with cold water.

“Ah, yeah,” you managed, disoriented. 

“Unreal, that movie is so old! I gotta get in on this – hey, Hana!” he called down the hallway. “Come on, they’re watching the Sound of Music!”

Hana and Lúcio sat on the floor in front of the couch and chatted through the movie, leaving you with a pounding heart, confused thoughts, and slick between your legs.

* * *

Zenyatta sat on the roof and meditated, the wrung out storm clouds silent companions as he worked to overcome his frustration and come down from his heightened state. 

You certainly seemed receptive and willing, given the sheer volume of arousal that was pouring off of you when he touched you. He hadn't anticipated how affected he would be in such close quarters, with your emotions amplifying his like an echo chamber. Though he was at first bothered by the interruption, he was now grateful for it; he certainly didn’t want rush you, rush this.

The image of pliant skin yielding to the pressure of his fingers flashed behind his optics for the umpteenth time, and he still marveled at just how soft and alive you felt beneath his fingertips. It had the potential to be addictive, and he already craved the feeling of you trembling beneath his touch. 

But he meditated, bringing himself back in line. Patience was a virtue, as was inner peace, both of which he had honed in his years at the monastery.

Suddenly, there was the pressure of your emotions bearing down around him, strong and urgent. The wave of lust would surely had knocked him off of his feet had he been standing, and as it was the orbs orbiting around him dropped several inches before he had the presence of mind to mentally catch them.

Smugness creeped in at the edges of his mind, and Zenyatta heaved a convincing sigh for someone without lungs. 

He would have to meditate through that, too – he’d be out here all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was part of Lena's advice Netflix and Chill? Maybe so.
> 
> Thank you all so much! This chapter really fought me hard. I know that the Zen POV scenes are a deviation from the format, but I didn't even know how to write this chapter until I inserted those scenes. I hope that it wasn't too confusing and that it added value to the story.
> 
> Starting to shift the relationship and it's pretty fun to write! If you liked this, I would really appreciate you dropping a like or comment. They really motivate me to do work on this story! I love you guys.
> 
> Also, clannibal gifted me a very sweet little fic for this story! It's great, and I'll link it here. It blows my mind that this story has driven a couple people to create, and it's honestly amazing. Link below!
> 
>  
> 
> [Pisică and Lup](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13414839)
> 
>  
> 
> I'll see you next time! Keep being amazing!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is indescribable beauty in the world,” he murmured, almost to himself, and you gave a small, fond smile.

I opened my eyes last night,  
And saw you in the low light  
Walking down by the bay, on the shore,  
Staring up at the stars that aren’t there anymore.

* * *

The briefing room looked stunningly like any conference room in the world, with a long table, wheeled chairs, and a large screen at the front of the room. There was ambient chatter as you came through the doorway and made a quick bee line for the open seat by Zenyatta and Reinhardt. 

“My friend!” Reinhardt exclaimed, pushing the chair back for you to sit. “It is excellent that you are able to join us!”

With a weak smile, you took the proffered seat. “Y-yeah, its great!” you replied, doing your best to sound enthusiastic. You had been half dreading and half looking forward to this briefing. Now that you were here, you were leaning more towards dread. 

“You seem tense,” Zenyatta mentioned, quietly enough so that only you could hear him. “Are you alright?” 

Before you could answer, Winston stood and called the everyone order. It didn’t stop Zenyatta from deliberately taking your hand and giving it a squeeze under the table, making your heart stutter and pick up.

“Good morning! Glad to see everybody here.” He shot you a smile and you relaxed a bit to smile back. “Anyway, let’s get right to it. We have received a transmission from former agent Mei-Ling Zhou, whom some of you might remember.” With the press of a button, a picture of a Chinese woman with a huge smile filled the screen. She looked familiar to you; you realized that you had seen her before, being interviewed about weather disasters. At the time, you had noticed how friendly and enthusiastic she was on camera – you hadn’t realized she was formerly an agent.

“Mei! God, its been ages,” Lena enthused. “Isn't she going around to all the old Ecopoints?”

“Precisely,” Winston confirmed, and clicked over to a world view. The globe representing the earth spun slowly, a handful of red markers scattered across some of the more remote reaches of the world. “After Overwatch disbanded, our Ecopoints all went offline and invaluable environmental data started collected dust. Mei has been collecting the data so that it can be used to asses the state of our climate and ecosystem health.”

“I follow her journal blog,” Hana chirped from the back corner of the room, looking up from her handheld gaming device. “The places she goes are incredible! And I love the way she writes.” 

Jack pulled Hana’s game out of her hands, pocketing it before she could retaliate. “For the last time, stop gaming during the briefing and pay attention,” he reprimanded. Ana hid a laugh behind her hand as Hana crossed her arms and grumbled.

“Anyways,” Winston said loudly, clicking a button on his computer. The display zoomed in on one of the markers and filled the screen to display the image of a worn metal building nestled in thick undergrowth between gargantuan trees. “This is Ecopoint: Amazon. It was responsible for collecting data on rainforest health, isotopic compositions in the Amazon River, and sequestration of carbon dioxide in the Amazon River plume. It’s been abandoned since Overwatch disbanded, and this is where Mei will be going next.”

“Doesn’t she usually do her thing solo?” Jesse drawled, leaning the chair back on two legs. “What’s this got to do with us?”

“You are going to fall if you keep doing that,” Hanzo told him in a tone that implied he had issued this warning many times before. Jesse winked at him but didn’t stop leaning the chair back. 

“Ecopoint: Amazon had some unique technology,” Winston replied, pulling up several schematics and blueprints. Your attention was immediately drawn to an image of an engine that you hadn’t seen before. It was fundamentally different than others you had worked on in a way that you couldn’t put your finger on. “We will be going in with Mei to extract several items, including this.”

The image of a small aircraft that looked almost like a hobby drone filled the screen. “This is the Skimmer, a small research vessel designed to take samples from the rainforest canopy without disturbing the wildlife. It is nearly silent, and the engine used would be a huge asset in development of stealth vessels.”

Angela spoke up, “The team there was also working on a regenerative nanogel derived from catfish mucus, if I remember correctly. I would like to study it, if a prototype or procedure could be found.”

Winston acknowledged this with a nod, and flipped to an image of the inside of the base. It was dark and quiet, being slowly overtaken by opportunistic vegetation. You realized that this was a camera feed - there was a running clock in the lower corner.

“I was able to remotely activate the surveillance cameras and scope it out. It appears that no one has been there since it was abandoned, which is good for us – all of the records and equipment should still be there. We'll assemble a small group to go in and extract any useful tech and records, as well as assist Mei.” 

As Winston detailed the specifics of the plan and what needed to be done, you wondered who would be assigned. Definitely Winston, maybe Hanzo… 

You snapped out of your reverie as Winston said your name. “Did you hear me?” he asked you, sounding a little exasperated.

“Ah, no. I spaced out for a second, I’m sorry.” You went a little pink as you heard Genji give a quiet snort of amusement.

“I said, I would like you to come on this mission. There will be a lot of malfunctioning tech that we will need to get running in order to collect information. The rainforest is not kind to machines.”

Your heart gave a hard thump in your chest, and you realized that it was excitement. “Yeah, that sounds great!” you responded with a smile. Winston's stern disposition dissipated and he smiled back at you.

Lena shot you a grin across the table and Lúcio gave you a surreptitious thumbs up. Jack looked displeased, but just as he was about to speak up Winston said firmly, “If anyone would like to discuss my decision, I ask that you speak with me after the briefing concludes.”

Winston began to discuss with the group who would be best suited to go on this trip, but you spaced out again, thrilled to even be going. What would you need to bring? What was the Amazon River like up close? Zenyatta said something to the assembled group, but you didn’t quite hear it, engrossed as you were in your thoughts. 

Thus, you quite surprised when you suddenly realized that Zenyatta's hand was no longer holding yours, but resting on your thigh, a few inches above your knee and hidden under the table. A casual flex of fingers send liquid heat straight up your thigh to pool between your legs. Oh god, was he trying to kill you? You swallowed; no one seemed to notice your discomfort, even as his fingers traced small swirls across the fabric of your pants. Zenyatta also did not seem to notice your shift in disposition, although his body was slightly turned towards you. At some point his chair had moved closer to yours, or perhaps you had shifted closer to him; there were a scant several inches between you, just over the boundaries of personal space.

Why was he doing this? You understood that it was probably a mindless habit, tracing patterns with his fingers, but you didn’t understand why you had become the surface upon which to trace lazy circles and lines with long, warm strokes. Especially in the first ever briefing you were allowed in!

A particularly bold swipe of fingers made his pinky drag a little too close to your inner thigh and you inhaled sharply, your legs subconsciously falling a little more open to accept the touch. This was probably little bad, you acknowledged, but you did crave his touch, even if it was in this innocuous, inadvertent way. 

Did you imagine that soft, approving hum from Zenyatta as your legs shifted wider for him? The realization that you would let him take you apart here and now, that you’d beg to be unraveled, hit you like a ton of bricks. You swallowed, hearing your heart in your ears as Winston began to draw the briefing to a close.

* * *

The engineering lab had been busy today as you and Winston packed the transport ship to prepare for the trip to the Ecopoint. At the end of the day, you flopped into a chair in the dining room, exhausted. The smell of English tea permeated the air and you sighed wistfully; you would love some tea, but you felt too tired to go make some. You rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hands, considering a nap, and then nearly jumped out of your skin as a full mug thudded against the table in front of you. 

Lena leaned over you, grinning, and nudged the mug closer to you. “Seemed like you could use a spot of tea, love! Long day?”

“Lena, you’re a saint,” you mumbled, picking up the tea and gulping it. She had made it the way she liked it, and the milk and sugar made the tense muscles in your back relax. Lena beamed and flipped down next to you, sipping at her own mug as you sat in companionable silence. 

“Was kinda warm in that meeting, huh?” Lena said conversationally. “You certainly seemed a little flushed!” 

You nearly choked on your mouthful of tea and Lena gave you a doe-eyed, innocent look as you composed yourself. “Maybe a little warm,” you hedged, not liking the mischievous expression she was wearing. 

“Maybe so,” she giggled , bumping your shoulder with hers. “On a completely unrelated note,” here her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “How’re things with your cute Omnic friend, hmm?” 

“Shhh!” You shot a wary glance to the opposite end of the table where Jesse and Hanzo were quietly talking, sitting so close together that their legs were touching. Their relationship was the worst kept secret on the Watchpoint, but neither of them seemed to notice.

“I’m being quiet,” she protested, getting louder. You gave her a look and she dropped the volume back down, continuing, “Did you ever talk to him about how you massively fancy him?”

“Well, I – no. I haven’t.” You leaned your head on your hands and sighed. “I just… I like him a lot and I don’t want to mess that up. We might have gone on a date the other day? I don’t know, I meant to ask but I forgot and now it’s too late.”

“Hey, it’s never too late to ask,” she reassured you. “Talking about it would be good for you! He wouldn’t want you to hide your feelings, I think. Zenyatta’s always been real vocal about not bottling up your problems.” 

“I mean, I guess you're right. It’s just hard, you know?” You fidgeted with the mug in your hands, turning it back and forth, feeling vulnerable even though Lena was trustworthy and kind. “I’m scared that when he doesn’t feel the same way that he'll leave me alone, and I really, really don’t want that.”

“That won’t happen.” Lena’s voice was suddenly serious and you looked up at her, surprised. “He really cares about you, you know. It’s really obvious to everyone except you, apparently.” The playful tone of voice was back. You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly and accepted Lena's proffered hand. 

“Hey, you went to visit Emily last week, right? How is she?”

Lena lit up like she did every time Emily came up in conversation. “She's lovely as ever! We went to the sweetest little cat café – ”

“Aren’t you allergic to cats?”

“ – and there was an absolutely precious cat that wouldn’t leave Emily alone! And you know, all those cats are up for adoption, so we - ” 

“Don’t tell me you adopted the cat! You’re allergic to cats!”

“ – so we adopted her!” Lena fumbled for her communicator to show you a picture. Emily was positively beaming at the camera, caught mid-laugh and holding a rose pink latte cup. A Sphynx cat with peach and white coloring perched on her shoulder and was in the process of licking her ear. You melted at the sweet knit sweater that the cat was wearing to keep warm, as well as the huge bat ears. 

“Well, that’s not so bad,” you acquiesced, taking the communicator to look closer, a smile bright on your face. “She’s precious!”

“Her name is Pearl! I’m not her favorite, but I’m gone a lot. Pearl’s head over heels for Emily though! And why wouldn’t she be?” A soft smile stole over Lena’s face as she scrolled to the next picture. “I’ll feel better knowing that it’s not just Em alone in our flat.”

The two of you jumped at a loud crash and shout at the other end of the room. Jesse resurfaced from under the table, having finally tipped so far back in the chair that he fell over backwards. Hanzo fixed him with a dry stare as Jesse hauled himself off the floor and back onto the chair. 

“I will not say that I told you so,” Hanzo informed Jesse graciously.

“You kicked the chair!” 

“You cannot prove that.”

* * *

The world was a green blanket of vegetation as the dropship began its descent, the shape of massive trees becoming clearer as you neared the canopy. Your face was practically pressed against the glass, the card game that you’d been playing laying forgotten on the table. Hana was right beside you, equally awed by the thick, vibrant jungle spread below you. 

“It looks so different from the pictures and documentaries!” she gasped and you nodded in agreement, committing the image to memory.

“It never gets old,” Lúcio agreed warmly. “I’ve been out to a couple of the rainforest stations that are in the canopy, it’s gorgeous!”

Even Zenyatta was looking out, kneeling on the bench and turned towards the windows. “There is indescribable beauty in the world,” he murmured, almost to himself, and you gave a small, fond smile. 

The ship hovered over a partially overgrown landing area before landing beside a much smaller vehicle. Winston appeared from the cockpit, clad in clothes that made him look fit for a safari. “I was worried that this landing pad would be out of commission and that we would have to parachute in,” he laughed as the engine slowed and quieted. “Everyone get your gear on, and I would really recommend that mosquito repellant on the shelf. They’re voracious!”

“Oh yeah,” Lúcio agreed. “My producer made that mistake, dude nearly got eaten alive!”

“It is time like these that I am thankful to not have skin,” Zenyatta remarked, and you giggled while Lúcio let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“Zen, man, you’re hilarious! Gets me every time.” Lúcio raised his fist for a bump that Zenyatta happily returned. 

Once you were all properly geared, sun-screened, and coated with bug repellant, Winston opened the bay doors and you stepped out of the ship. The air hit you like a wall, hot and thick with humidity, smells, and the sounds of the forest around you. 

Mei was waiting outside her vehicle, decked out in light, covering clothes and smiling widely. Winston strode forward to greet her with a hug, and Mei delightedly returned the embrace, exclaiming, “Winston! It’s been so long! How’ve you been?”

“Reforming Overwatch has been tricky business, but I’ve been doing well.” Winston turned back to the group and announced, “Everyone, this is Mei.”

Everyone took their turns saying hello, and you began to feel at ease. Mei was cheerful and enthusiastic, and her good mood was contagious. 

“So, you are the new engineer?” Mei asked after you introduced yourself.

“Yes, I am. Winston is a great teacher.” You shot him a grin and he looked simultaneously pleased and embarrassed.

“That's wonderful! He has always worked too hard,” she confided, giving Winston a pointed, teasing side eye. 

“Speaking of working hard, should we get started?” 

“That is a good idea! It will only get hotter as the day goes on.” Mei turned towards the old Ecopoint saying, “Come on, everyone! I cleared the entrance and made sure everything is safe. If we work together, this hopefully should not take a long time!”

* * *

It took a long time. 

The first part hadn’t taken so long; between the six of you, the Skimmer and the nanogel prototype were stowed safely on the ship. However, to get access to any schematics, data, and research, you needed to bring the computer systems back online.

Winston was right: the moisture and humidity of the rainforest were not kind to the machines, and it made any extended physical work sweaty and hot. You and Winston spent a lot of time elbow deep in various machines and computers, switching out rusted parts and removing standing water. Mei was perusing the research lab and sorting through any physical records while waiting for the computers to come back online. Hana and Lúcio flitted between Winston and Mei to give help wherever they could, while Zenyatta stayed by your side, keeping your mind off the heat with conversation and passing you tools when you needed them.

With a clang, you shut the access panel on your latest repair and leaned back, panting and swiping sweaty hair out of your face. “This isn’t nearly as glamorous as I thought missions would be,” you huffed, accepting your water bottle from Zenyatta's outstretched hand gratefully and taking a long swig. 

“Though the heat and humidity do not bother me, I am sorry to see you so affected,” Zenyatta said, sounding worried. “Is there anything that I can do?”

“You’re already helping, but I appreciate it,” you replied, giving him your best reassuring smile. “Unless you can control the weather?” 

“Unfortunately not a talent that I possess,” Zenyatta said, voice low and amused. “I would summon a refreshing breeze for you, if only I could.” 

You raised your arms to stretch, intent to take a couple minutes to breathe before moving on to the next console that needed servicing. “My neck is starting to get sore from all of these weird angles,” you complained, attempting to roll your neck to release some of the tension only to be stopped by pangs of pain in your back and shoulders. “Ow, okay, and everything else, apparently.”

“Oh, dear.” A gentle swipe of his hand placed the orb of harmony on your shoulder, leaching the pain away like a bad memory. You gave a sigh of contentment and let your eyes slip shut as the tense muscles released and the familiar, peaceful feeling asserted itself. 

Hands settled on your shoulders and you started, surprised. “It is only me,” came the reassurance from Zenyatta, kneeling behind you. “Would it be alright if I try to help you relax? You still appear rather tense.” The last word as punctuated by a firm press and rub of thumbs against the muscles on either side of your neck, making you release an undignified whimper.

“Oh, uh, yeah. If you don’t mind?” Anything to keep his hands on you.

“I do not mind at all.” With careful, steady hands, Zenyatta worked the stiffness out of your muscles, leaving you biting back moans of combined pain and pleasure. God, you weren’t sure how he learned to do this, but his hands were heaven and you couldn’t help but wonder what else he could do with them. By strokes, the tension went from a big, awful knot to a barely noticeable pressure. 

As you relaxed, the touches went from therapeutic to curious. 

Zenyatta traced the muscles of your back with light presses, feeling where they ended and began, paying tribute to that which kept you moving. A finger slid down your spine in a smooth, languid stroke, making your back arch before you could control the reflex. This time you weren’t able to suppress the whine you produced, eliciting a low, thoughtful hum from the Omnic behind you. 

The heat pressed in closer as gentle pressure on your shoulders pulled you back to lean against his front, arms draping around your shoulders for a short, sweet embrace. You could feel his faceplate press briefly to your hair and your heart hammered, pounding so hard that you thought it would escape your chest. A sweet, longing ache echoed in your chest as you reached up and placed your palms against the smooth metal of his forearms, returning the hug as best you could. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. _I love you_ , you thought, with a feeling of falling as you realized it was true. 

“It was my pleasure. Now, should we move to the next console?”

You heaved a dramatic sigh as Zenyatta released you, and you hauled yourself to your feet. “Yeah,” you agreed, reluctant but eager to finish your job. “On to the next one.”

* * *

Finally, as the sun was beginning to set, the mission was completed. The entire database of the Ecopoint was loaded onto two large external hard drives, one for Mei and one for Watchpoint: Gibraltar. As final preparations were made, you took a moment to check in with Hana.

“But Mei is really well travelled and so funny!” she was saying, stars in her eyes as she talked about the time that she and Lúcio had spent with her. “I told her about how I always wished I could travel, and she gave me her number and told me that she would tell me about all of the places she goes!”

“I thought Hana was going to ask her out,” Lúcio teased, ruffling her hair as Hana turned bright red. 

“Hey, you know it’s not like that!” she huffed, retaliating with an elbow to his ribs. “She’s just a huge inspiration to me, and I’m really happy that I got to meet her.”

Lúcio held up his hands in mock surrender and laughed, when you suddenly noticed a familiar smell in the air. It was sweet and floral, but you couldn’t quite place it. “Do you guys smell that?” you asked, but you were suddenly distracted by the appearance of Zenyatta, who exited the base and began to walk towards the group.

“Oh, you mean the flower smell?” Hana smiled. “That's a new body spray I got! It’s jasmine scented.”

As she spoke you went stock still, mind racing as the familiar smell pulled up the vivid memory of a dream. Of a nightmare. 

You wheeled around, scanning the roof and the surrounding wall of dense foliage. “Hey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Lúcio asked, worried.

Then you saw her. Connected to a unseen branch by a grappling hook and hanging upside down, a familiar sniper was looking intently down the scope of her sleek, deadly rifle. With mounting dread, you drew a line from the barrel of her gun right to Zenyatta.

For a long, unbroken instant, you couldn’t do anything, frozen where you stood. 

The instant snapped like a thread and you started to move. Feet slipping and struggling to find purchase in the mud and leafy litter, you ran at a dead sprint towards Zenyatta. You were unable to stop your momentum and you crashed into him, sending you both to the ground as a crack like thunder split the heavy air. 

With movements that felt fumbling, you grabbed your pulse pistol from the holster on your belt. The sounds of rising panic barely reached you as you convinced your unsteady hands to take aim, scrambling to remember what Ana had taught you as blood beat in your ears. With a deceivingly quiet click, you flipped the safety off and depressed the trigger.

Bright bolts of light streaked from the muzzle of your pistol and landed in a panicked scatter around Widowmaker, but one bolt found a mark on her dominant arm. Even from here you could see her bare her teeth in a grimace.

“Move, move!” you screamed, pushing Zenyatta in an attempt to get him out of the line of fire. As he began to move another shot rang out, and a bullet crashed through Zenyatta's shoulder. A hot, thin line of pain split your cheek as a spray of metal fragments exploded out from the impact and his cry of pain seared into your frontal lobe. 

A wall of sheer ice appeared seemingly out of thin air, blocking the line of sight between you and the sniper. You saw Mei standing behind you, having constructed the wall with what looked like an amped up hairdryer. “You guys need to go somewhere safe, hurry!” With a crisp ka-chunk, she fired a wicked looking icicle at an unseen target. 

There were other guns now, the sound of fighting loud as other Talon agents appeared from the undergrowth. Hana clicked a button on her keychain and MEKA barreled out of the ship, knocking enemies aside as it came to her. With a practiced jump she entered the cockpit, which sealed behind her. She started laying down covering fire for Lúcio, who ran back to the ship to get his skates and sonic amplifier. 

Winston hauled you and Zenyatta to your feet and ushered you towards the ship, yelling, “Start the ship, we need to leave!” You stumbled onto the ramp of the ship, tugging Zenyatta along by his good arm as Winston roared and rounded on his pursuers, knocking them away with swipes of his huge fists. 

“Oh god I don’t know how to start this - ” You ran to the control panels and frantically searched for something, anything that would direct you to the correct action. 

“Good evening.” Came a cool, robotic voice over the cockpit speakers. “Is there anything I can assist you with?”

“Start the ship! We need to get out of here!”

“Beginning engine activation protocol. Ship will be ready for takeoff in three minutes.” 

“I need to rejoin the fight,” Zenyatta said, calm voice at odds with your visible panic.

“You’re injured! You shouldn’t go back out, please.” You felt your voice cracking as tears threatened, and you couldn’t stop trembling. 

Zenyatta stepped forward and pressed his forehead to yours hard, hard enough that you almost felt like the outline of his optical array would be pressed into the skin of your forehead. “Stay here. I will be safe, I promise you.” 

Before you could open your mouth to protest, he was out the door, driving enemies back with precisely placed balls of destructive energy, slower than usual without the use of one of his arms. The orbs of discord and harmony zipped from person to person, causing enemies to crumple and wounds to seal respectively.

A short, pale woman made it past the line and rushed the ship, only to find you waiting to push her back with a volley of shots, all aimed at the legs because the thought of killing someone made you nauseous. Lúcio zipped up between you and released a percussive blast that send her rocketing back into Winston's waiting arms.

“Lúcio, the engines should be almost ready, we need to go!” 

“You got it sister!” The music playing from his sonic amplifier switched to a tune that made you feel energetic and brave as he coasted down the ramp to rejoin the fray. 

Slowly your friends began to fall back, defensively retreating, but there were so many more Talon agents. For every one that fell, two more seemed to appear.

“We can’t leave with so many people around, the bottom of the ship is vulnerable to gunfire!” Winston bellowed, knocking back a muscular man wielding an SMG. 

“There must be something we can do,” Zenyatta said reasonably, kicking a man in the head so hard that you heard a loud snap.

“Leave it to me!” Hana’s voice was a little static-y from MEKA's speakers. “Winston, be ready to catch me! You’ll have to close the door as soon as I get in!”

“Hana, what are you - ”

“You need to trust me!” 

A beat of silence, then Winston said, “I trust you. Everyone else, inside. Get ready for takeoff.”

Everyone piled inside, Mei running to the cockpit to pilot the plane as Lúcio and Zenyatta shot out of the wide bay doors to keep the crowd back.

Hana gave a shout of pure glee and sent MEKA into a charge, forcing the people on the ramp to fall back or be crushed by a ton of metal. “Get ready!” she shouted, and then activated her rockets to fly straight upwards. Your finger was on the door button as you watched the bubblegum pink mech reach the top of its trajectory and slow to a stop. In that instant, Hana mashed a button on her control panel and ejected. Time seemed to slow as she began to fall, spinning through the air. The shriek of rending metal from MEKA heralded a bright green glow from cracks in the metal carapace. As it arced to the ground it began to shake and emit a piercing whirr. People on the ground began to scatter, shouting, but it was too late. 

“ _NERF THIS_!”

Hana landed in Winston’s arms and you slammed the button, the door whizzing shut and the engines roaring as the ship shot into the sky quickly enough to make you stumble and fall.

The explosion was deafening as the mech self-destructed in a blinding flash of green, taking a chunk out the surrounding foliage as well as the Talon operatives. Hana fell to the ground beside you, laughing with a slightly hysterical edge. 

“Aw, my sponsors are going to kill me! I got chewed out bad after the last self destruct I pulled.” 

You stared at her in blank shock and she seemed to come back to her senses, scooting over to throw her arms around you. It was only then you realized that you were still shaking. Hana spoke reassurances in bright Korean, squeezing you tightly as you rode out the adrenaline high. 

“Woah, hey!” Lúcio skidded to a stop beside you and fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around your shoulders from the other side. “You’re okay, we're okay. Everyone is safe! You did great!”

Desperately you tried to convince yourself that you were safe now, but even still… “Zen, is he okay? He got hit in the shoulder by that sniper,” you asked in a worried rush.

Lúcio hesitated, but before he could say anything you felt a familiar hand give your disarrayed hair a soothing stroke. You looked up to see Zenyatta, looking intact save for a sling supporting the injured arm. 

“I am alright,” Zenyatta said, voice as calm and resonant as ever. As if he hadn’t just gotten shot. “I have turned off the sensory receptors, so I am not in pain. For now, I will keep my arm immobile so that I do not worsen it before it can be fixed.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed. Hana and Lúcio exchanged a meaningful glance and helped you to your feet. 

“We're gonna start getting everything back where it’s supposed to be,” Lúcio announced, gesturing at all of the things that had been knocked loose by the abrupt takeoff. Hana nodded in agreement and they set to it while you allowed Zenyatta to guide you to the bench.

Zenyatta was about to start talking, but you cut him off as you lunged forward and wrapped him in a hug, carefully placing yourself to avoid jostling the injured arm. “I – I had a nightmare after I got shot that time and it was you, Widowmaker killed you and you grew jasmine flowers, and today I smelled jasmine and she was there and I was so _scared_ , she was going to kill you and I was so afraid that there wouldn’t be anything I could do - ”

Zenyatta listened patiently and intently to your broken, rambling speech while he rubbed your back gently with his good hand. When you finally ran out of stem, you just leaned your head against his shoulder and breathed, the smell of incense and old metal calming and familiar.

“I just…” _I love you_. “I’m so happy that you’re alright.”

“You saved my life,” Zenyatta noted simply. “If that dream was prophetic, which I believe it was, then I would have perished if you had not intervened. I believe we are now even.” 

You laughed at the small joke and allowed yourself to calm down. The sky lit up in shades of orange and red as you rested against Zenyatta's front for a few more stolen moments, the ship humming quietly as it began its return to the Watchpoint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically sphynx cats are beautiful and valid and I'll fight everyone about it.
> 
> I'm sorry guys, I started writing a really long, continuous chapter. I had to stop, cut off a piece of the story, and make it a refined chapter otherwise I would have spread myself too thin. I also had a big test and then a big interview and things have been kinda hectic.
> 
> But anyway! A big plot chapter with a side of tension, just for you. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Wow, we hit and passed 200 kudos between this and the last chapter! That's amazing and I'm seriously happy about it! If you like the story please consider leaving a kudos or comment. Maybe it's the video gamer in me, but big numbers make me feel good and make me more determined!
> 
> I hope you're doing well and that your new year is good thus far. Thank you again, take care of yourself!
> 
> EDIT: You guys keep amazing me! itsmaffi on Tumblr made a lovely piece of art from a few chapters ago, link below, and it's gorgeous and sweet!
> 
> [Kiss the Cook](https://itsmaffi.tumblr.com/post/170959138893/so-i-made-fanart-to-zilly-who-s-absolutely)
> 
> If you guys make fan art, please let me know! I'm going to work on making a masterpost on my tumblr, zilly-who. There's also the art done by killamoth in the notes of chapter 1, and the fic done by cannibal in the notes of last chapter. You're wonderful, thank you so much! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you had had a little more to drink than you should have.

And all along I believed,  
I would find you  
Time has brought your heart to me,  
I have loved you for a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more

* * *

Upon your return to the Watchpoint, Zenyatta was whisked away by Winston and Mercy so that his arm could be fixed. It was late, almost midnight, and you were nearly back to your room when you heard Jesse call your name. You turned to see him standing at the end of the hallway, and he raised his hand in a friendly wave.

“Hey darlin’, glad to see you back safe,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “We’re gonna celebrate the mission success with some drinks, maybe some games. Are you in?” 

“Oh!” Even though you were tired, you couldn’t help but smile with excitement at the thought. “Sure, just give me a minute to clean up?” Your clothes were saturated with sweat and jungle muck.

“I think that would be best for all of us.” He chuckled heartily at your scandalized expression and turned away, saying, “I’ll save some of the good stuff for ya, don’t take too long!”

Turtle was waiting at the door, tail waving in welcome, and you scooped her up to plant a smooch right on her furry little head, much to her evident delight. You hummed a tune cheerfully as you started shedding your soiled clothes and went directly to the shower. 

You emerged in a cloud of steam once you finally felt clean, the smell of jungle stripped from your skin. As you got quickly dressed, a notification chimed from the speakers of your computer.

 _Ding_.

When you turned to see what it was, you saw that your email client had opened itself and that there was a chat message in the lower corner. 

sombra: how’s it going, chica? any news?

Your stomach dropped to your toes and you swallowed, your cheery mood evaporating in an instant. 

_Ding._

sombra: i know you’re there. just get it over with.

Sombra sent a picture of the Watchpoint all lit up at night, and then an image of a group training session off one of the security cameras, both with time and date stamps.

sombra: petras act says that overwatch is still illegal. i’ve got my finger on the send button.  
sombra: start typing. and don’t try to lie.

You swallowed the sick feeling in your stomach, reminding yourself that you didn’t have a choice if you didn’t want Overwatch to be disbanded again, or worse.

You started typing, trying for vague, sweeping statements, but your story was picked apart by questions until Sombra was satisfied.

sombra: nice doing business with you, friend. ;)

A pink sugar skull eclipsed the screen in a flash and disappeared just as quickly. With a frustrated groan, you flopped face forward onto your bed and screamed into the pillow until you got lightheaded. God damn it. Weren’t you going to try and fix this? You hadn’t even tried, if only you were smarter, or stronger, you’d have been able to figure something out. Even after all this time, you still weren't good enough.

Minutes passed, and you still had your face buried in a pillow. You knew that you should probably go to the celebration and act normal, but right now you felt like the scum of the earth. Instead you curled up and nested, feeling angry and sorry for yourself with ashamed tears burning your eyes. Turtle hopped onto the bed with a concerned meow, settling by your head and purring. The tears started to fall as Turtle butted her head to yours.

A soft knock on the door made you rub your eyes and lift your head. “Who is it?”

“Mei!” called the bright voice softly from behind the door. 

“Just a second.” You got off the bed, quickly fixing your hair into something presentable before opening the door.

Mei smiled at you, dressed down in casual clothes. “Hey! I just wanted to check in, and see if you wanted to come to the party with me.”

“Check in?” you asked. “What do you mean?” 

“I got a message from Angela on my old communicator,” Mei explained. “She said that Zenyatta asked for someone to check on you. I am not sure what she meant, but are you alright?”

Oh, right. It wasn’t like you’d been trying to hide how upset you were, and it had probably hit Zenyatta like a freight train. “I’m okay,” you fibbed. “I was just… worried about Zen. I hope he's alright.”

“That makes sense,” she soothed, “But he will be alright! Winston and Angela brought Genji back from nearly dying, and so I think they will be able to help Zenyatta.”

“I actually didn’t know that,” you said, reeling. You hadn't put much thought into how he had gotten to be a cyborg – what had happened to him? 

“Anyways,” Mei continued, “if nothing is wrong, then we should go together! Since I ended up here for a while, I hope I get to know all of you.” Her earnest demeanor put you at ease and you softened, allowing yourself to calm down. After all, Zenyatta wouldn’t want you to keep being down on yourself; this would be a better option.

“I'd like that. Just let me grab my shoes.”

* * *

The shot of whiskey burned down your throat and you coughed, shooting Jesse a glare that could maim. “You said you’d save me the good stuff!”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow at you. “Why anyone would trust him is beyond me.”

“Awww sugar, you don’t mean that,” Jesse rumbled, slinging an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. You rolled your eyes fondly and went to grab a more palatable drink. 

Most everyone was here, save for Angela, Winston, and Zenyatta. Even Jack was here, handily beating Ana and Genji at poker as he nursed an American beer. There was a karaoke machine set up that was being given a wide berth, although you noticed that Reinhardt kept edging closer to it. You walked up beside Lena, who was frowning at a rulebook the size of a novella while Lúcio, Mei, and Hana listened in varying stages of confusion.

“And then when the haunting begins, the betrayer gets the other rule book… Oh, hello love!” Lena beamed and gave you a one-armed hug. You could smell white wine on her breath. “This game's got a bloody textbook as a rulebook! Wanna give it a whirl with us?” 

“Sounds complicated,” you noted, before flipping onto the couch beside her with a bounce. “I’m in!”

“My man!” Lúcio held his hand out for a low five that you eagerly took him up on. 

“I’m not sure we can even figure out how to start this game,” Hana joked, finishing a wine cooler and club soda. You gave it a perplexed look and Hana pouted, saying, “I’m not 21 and this is all Jack will give me!”

You burst out laughing. “Hana, I’m pretty sure he's pulling your leg. They changed the drinking age to 18 in the US years ago!”

“Whaaat!” Hana gasped. “That jerk! He knows that I can’t read deadpan sarcasm in English!”

She stormed off to get a real drink and Lena dissolved into giggles. “Back when I was a cadet, he pulled that one on me,” she confided to you and Lúcio. “Some things never change!”

As Lena puzzled over starting the game, you vaguely remembered the crack of the sniper rifle, Zenyatta's cry of pain. You remembered how you had just thoroughly betrayed your friends at a computer not a half hour ago.

You chased away the pangs of worry and guilt with vodka and lemonade. And when those feelings came back, you got another drink.

* * *

The board game had finally hit its stride after a half hour and a few drinks. The group had come to the unanimous decision to make up rules if confusion arose, and so far it had made the game wonderfully ridiculous. The game had designated Lúcio as the betrayer and Lena took to it with glee, booing him every time he took a turn. Hana made it her personal mission to singlehandedly fight his character.

Lúcio hissed your name in a loud stage whisper, and you snorted. “You betrayed us! Why would I talk to you?”

He continued in a dramatic whisper, “I’ll give you five dollars and a special mention on my next album if you betray those two.”

“Oi, no fair!”

Mei considered. “That is actually a pretty good deal.”

You gave a thoughtful hum and tapped your lip as Hana tore into Lúcio. “Hey, that’s not allowed! You’re just desperate because you’re losing, she’d never – ” 

“Ten dollars and the special mention!”

“Deal.” You stuck out your hand and shook his hand while Hana and Lena made loud noises of shock and mock distress. Mei gave you a congratulatory thumbs-up; she didn’t seem to particularly care about winning the game and was instead just happy to be there. 

Lúcio cackled and you scooted over to sit beside him, batting your eyelashes innocently at your scorned teammates. “Nothing personal, I still love you guys.”

“How could you betray our trust like this!” Lena tried to sound indignant between giggles, and the overall effect wasn’t intimidating. “You’ll pay for that!”

There was a loud screech of microphone feedback and everyone in the room instinctively covered their ears as the karaoke machine went online. Unsurprisingly it was Reinhardt with the microphone in hand, eagerly scrolling through the available songs. 

“This should be good,” Genji said from your other side, and you jumped about a foot in the air.

“When did you get there?”

Any response was drowned out by the opening chords of Bon Jovi and the cheers of the quickly gathered crowd. 

Lena tugged on your sleeve to get your attention and gestured towards the snack table. When you followed, she faced you and asked with all of the seriousness of a very tipsy person, “Sooo, did ya tell him?” 

“Well, no,” you hedged. “We were busy with the mission, and then things went south, he got shot…”

Lena waggled her finger in your face. “Listen. Listen. Zenny’s fine, but what if he hadn’t been? What if he hadn’t been fine and you’d never told him?”

“Oh.” You'd been trying not to think of that. “But he's alright now! And I’ll tell him eventually.” Probably. Maybe.

“That's not good enough, love!” she all but whined, then hugged you. “Listen! I want you to be happy, so you need to clear the air around the whole situation. I _promise_ \- ” here she gave you a little shake, “That it’ll go alright!”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you hugged her back. “Thanks, Lena.”

“You’re very welcome for my expert advice.” 

“Oh, this is my jam!” you heard Lúcio exclaim, followed by the opening groove of Uptown Funk.

She grinned and started heading back to the couches, calling, “Come on! You don’t wanna miss this one.”

The night blurred by after that, other activities abandoned in favor of doing karaoke, one person belting old songs while the peanut gallery sang along, catcalled, or jeered. You were having a blast, especially when Jack was persuaded to go up and sing Jolene, his low raspy voice somehow perfect for the tune.

When the microphone got passed after every song, you did your best to be small and unnoticeable so that you didn’t have to sing. Alas, it was not to be.

“My friend!” Reinhardt rumbled, tugging you to your feet, despite your protests. “Would you do me the honor of singing with me?”

The gathered agents cheered and you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no, so you smiled nervously as Reinhardt handed you a microphone.

“Do not worry!” he declared, selecting a familiar song. “Together, we will be wonderful!”

 _Ah, screw it_. You finished your drink and tossed the cup to Genji (who snagged it effortlessly out of midair without even looking your way) as the beginning to Hooked on a Feeling blasted out of the speakers. Together, you and Reinhardt raised the microphones and started to belt as your friends cheered and whistled.

* * *

Maybe you had had a little more to drink than you should have. The hallway swirled a little more than imperceptibly as you headed towards the kitchen, and every now and then you lost track of your spatial awareness and bumped against the wall.

The party had dispersed naturally, with you and Hana cheerfully (loudly) parting ways when you reached your door. You’d made it inside and into your pajamas when you realized that food sounded amazing right now, and that you should probably go drink a lot of water to stave off any hangovers. So off to the kitchen you went, sock-footed and in pajamas.

You padded into the kitchen and started raiding the fridge. There was leftover lasagna from a couple nights ago that you microwaved, and you snagged one of the sports drinks that populated the racks inside of the door, singing to yourself all the while.

The microwave dinged and you went to retrieve your tasty prize, too caught up in your off-key rendition of Hooked on a Feeling to notice someone else enter the room until they spoke your name.

At Zenyatta's lovely, questioning voice you turned around and beamed at him. “Zen! You’re okay, I was so worried.” You walked up to him and hugged him close without thinking twice, and you didn’t really mind when it took an extra moment for him to hug you back. As you pulled away, you swayed a little before correcting your balance, holding up a placating hand as he moved to steady you. “I’m alright! I'd offer to make you a plate, but, well, you don’t eat.” It wasn’t that funny, but you giggled anyway.

“You are drunk,” Zenyatta noted in an even voice, and even though it wasn’t said negatively you wilted slightly.

“I’m not! Well, I am a little. But not a lot,” you conceded. “I’m being good, though! I’m gonna drink a lot of water and eat this food and I’ll be alright, promise.”

Zenyatta seemed to release a little tension as you kept talking. “Yes, you will be alright,” he murmured and his voice was fond and smooth again, making you melt. “Did you have a nice time? You were upset earlier.”

“I did!” you replied, electing to not address your earlier mood as you took your strange pairing of lasagna and a sports drink to the dining room table. In between eating and drinking, you told him about the get together, unable to keep from laughing as you recounted the funny parts. 

“Oh!” You cut yourself off in the middle of a sentence – you couldn’t believe you’d forgotten. “Your arm, is it okay?” The metal of the shoulder appeared shinier than the rest of him, and you scooted closer so you could touch it.

“It is repaired. Angela and Winston did an excellent job, although it took a long time.” Zenyatta gently took your hand and pressed it to the previously injured joint, and you explored it with your fingers. The curve of the joint was smooth under your palm, and the texture was slightly different from the way you remembered it usually felt. You raised your other hand to the opposing shoulder to feel the difference, noticing how the old metal felt a little slicker in a pleasant way.

“Is it to your satisfaction?” He sounded amused, and you stuck your tongue out at him. 

“I mean, yes. I’m partial to you being in one piece, you know?” You finished your sports drink with a gulp and set to cleaning up, Zenyatta quietly helping as you hummed and occasionally bumped into the counters. 

The food had definitely helped, as you were less affected than before. But even still, as you backed away from the sink you managed to step funny and turn your ankle. Before you could process anything you were on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh god damn it, ow that hurts,” you whined, prodding the outside of your ankle and wincing at the pain. The orb of harmony was on your shoulder in the next instant, and Zenyatta dropped down beside you. The sprained ligaments began to reform and heal, and the pain leeched away. 

“Did you hit anything when you fell?” He asked worriedly.

“I fell on my butt pretty hard, but not besides that.” 

“I admit, I do not understand the appeal of drinking alcohol,” Zenyatta mused as he held your ankle straight and checked for any more damage. “Perhaps it is a human thing that I’ll never understand.”

You considered that, although your thoughts were still muddled and Zenyatta's proximity and deliberate touches certainly weren’t helping. “I can’t really explain it,” you said. “It's like… it’s nice to not have to worry sometimes, and forget all of the bad thoughts that I have. It’s also fun to be around people that you trust, and it’s easier to share your feelings.” You squinted, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Am I making any sense?”

“I suppose I could see some appeal in that.” Zenyatta apparently deemed your ankle fit for use, as he released it and looked at you, head tilted kindly towards you. “Shall I walk you to your room?” 

“Okay! Can you help me up, please?” You held out your hands and Zenyatta attempted to help you to your feet. But when you tried to get your legs under you, your socked feet slid in opposite directions and you thumped back to the ground, bringing Zenyatta down with you. Your forehead impacted hard against his and you dropped your head to his shoulder with a pained whine, willing the world to stop spinning. A bruise formed and was instantly healed by the still-present orb of harmony, and your head cleared from the pain.

All at once, you realized your position. 

You were propped up on your hands and Zenyatta had fallen basically on top of you, his arms bracketing your hips and a leg nestled between yours. Like a switch had flipped, you were immediately aware of your quickened heartbeat and the heat of metal against fabric, searing through to your skin. As he shifted in an attempt to get his weight off of you, solid metal pressed firm against your center and you groaned, a surprised, desperate sound. Zenyatta made a low, throbbing noise that seemed to come straight from his center, where his heart would be if he were human. But he wasn’t, and you loved that. You loved him.

Well, now was as good a time as any. Your stomach swooped with nerves, and judging by the way Zenyatta leaned back onto his knees and tilted his head, he had felt that. 

“Listen, Zen I… um.” You felt like your face must be solid red; even thinking about saying what you felt made you feel like vanishing into thin air. Was this even a good idea? 

“Take your time,” Zenyatta told you softly, sounding for all the world like he would sit here and wait until the eventual heat death of the universe for you to formulate your thoughts.

You were being overdramatic. You were thinking too much. You were still pretty tipsy and it wouldn’t get any easier from here, damn it. Say something, say anything!

“You’re really kind, and caring. And no matter what happens, you always still manage to be positive. I’m really happy that I’m your friend. I… I like you a lot,” you stammered, tripping over words as you tried to convey the depth of your feelings.

Zenyatta sounded confused. “I care for you as well, my friend.”

God damn it. What were you, in middle school? Use your words!

“No, I, I mean I _like_ like you.”

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?

“Fuck, no, I’m so stupid. Zen, I – I love you. You don’t feel the same way but I – I just wanted you to know...” 

You cut yourself off as your voice went unsteady and you began to tear up, cursing whatever bizarre mix of alcohol, emotions, and hormones was making you want to cry right now. Before, when people had talked about heartbreak, you’d thought they were exaggerating. But with every passing second that Zenyatta didn’t move, didn’t respond, you could feel your heart cracking wide open.

A tear tried to escape your eye and you gave a big undignified sniff, stammering, “I r-ruined it, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I’ll - ”

“Do you truly mean that?” 

You blinked and froze; his voice sounded raw, cautious, wonderstruck.. “Do I…?”

Hands settled on either side of your face and guided your gaze to his. Zenyatta stared into your eyes intently, as though if he tried hard enough, he would fall into your mind and feel your emotions for himself. 

Unable to handle the direct scrutiny, you started crying in earnest now, looking down and away even as Zenyatta caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away stray tears. “I do. I really do,” you cried. “And it hurts, it hurts because I know that I’m just some unimportant person who went and fell for someone as special as you, and I knew you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“Please do not cry, dear one.” His hands moved to cradle your head like something precious. You couldn't handle this drawn out rejection - you started to pull away but he would not let you, pulling you closer with an arm around your middle and hushing you as you hiccupped. 

“I have told you many times that I care for you greatly,” he reminded you, tucking some stray hair behind your ear. “And I’ve told you many times that you are wonderful, that you are incredibly special to me, not only in the inexplicable ways. Of course I love you; how could I not?” 

For a moment, his words didn’t register, and you were still tensed for the blow of rejection. But then you realized, and paradoxically you started crying harder, clutching the dusky sunshine yellow fabric of Zenyatta's robes as he held you tight.

“There is no need to cry,” he told you. “I have loved you for a while, and I have done my best to tell you as much without so many words. Have my feelings not reached you?”

“I – I don’t know why I’m still crying,” you laughed thickly through your tears, and Zenyatta very kindly didn’t draw attention to you wiping your tears off on the fabric of his robe. “I'm happy, I guess, but m-mostly I’m a mess. I didn’t expect this.”

“You should learn to pay more attention to those around you,” Zenyatta chided you gently, “and to not let your insecurities shape how you perceive the world. Nevertheless, I cannot begin to tell you how glad I am that you shared this with me. I was beginning to worry that I was misreading the situation.”

“Misreading…” you repeated, confused. “You knew?”

“My dear, you are not exactly subtle,” Zenyatta teased, seeming more at ease now that you'd stopped crying. “Not to mention that, for a reason that I do not know, more and more of your emotions have made themselves known to me.” He chuckled, the sound sheepish but musical. “Perhaps this has given me an unfair advantage.”

“Maybe I’m passed out in bed, having weird dreams from the alcohol. I’m not sure I believe this is actually happening,” you admitted, only half joking.

“This is not a dream. Is my admission so hard for you to believe? Listen to me, please.” Zenyatta tilted your chin up and you looked at him, drinking in the sight of beautiful old metal shining in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. “You are worthy of love. Specifically, you are worthy of my love, and you always have been. You always will be, no matter what hardships you are facing or will face in the future.”

A hum escaped you, a purely joyful sound, and you finally reached out to embrace him, shifting so that Zenyatta was kneeling between your legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You felt like pure warmth, like you could beam light out of your smile. “This is ridiculous,” you giggled. “We're on the kitchen floor, it’s probably like three in the morning, I'm still pretty tipsy, and you _love_ me.” 

“What a strange and wonderful world we live in,” Zenyatta replied quite seriously.

Without much further ado, you placed a hand at the base of his neck and pulled him in slowly for a kiss, pausing to gauge his reaction. When no protest came, you leaned forward and softly kissed the place where lips would be if he had them. 

Zenyatta was quiet as you pressed another kiss there, and then another, each contact of your lips to warm metal sending your heart into overdrive in the best possible way. Finally, in a soft voice that was barely a whirr of synthetic vocal cords, he said, “I am sorry that I cannot return in kind.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you assured. With a grin, you started scattering kisses all across his face plate, careful and sweet and only glancingly across where his mouth would be. Zenyatta made a joyous, distinctly non-human noise that made your heart skip a beat. So long as you kept peppering his face with kisses, he kept making that noise and you were tempted to never stop. 

His reciprocation was given freely with his hands, in deliberate, reverent touches mapping places that had before been beyond the bounds of propriety: your ears, your neck, your sternum and the skin above your breasts, the sensitive skin of your sides. Even familiar places were revisited and appreciated – your face, your arms, the soft flesh of your belly. Every graze and stroke and press sent heat into your stomach until you were squirming, pangs of want making you overheat. 

Just when you though you might actually combust, Zenyatta stopped, returning his hands to your hips and giving them a faint squeeze. “Oh, sweet thing,” he cooed, and you could feel your cheeks heat up even more at the endearment. “You are beautiful - so soft, so responsive and alive.” 

“Stop, you’re gonna kill me,” you muttered, overwhelmed and overjoyed, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, and he laughed softly.

“You will not be able to stop me, I’m afraid.” Tenderly, Zenyatta reached out to trace your lips with the pad of his smooth, metal thumb. “Not for as long as I am with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (By the way, Zenyatta had a pretty substantial crush within days of meeting you, but was a little too embarrassed to say so.)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading! We've been building to this moment for a while now, isn't it nice to finally get there? Well, we'll see how long it lasts, haha.
> 
> If you missed it, in the notes for the last chapter I've linked a piece of fanart by itsmaffi! I mention this here because it got edited into the notes after publishing, and I want everybody to be able to see it. It is beautiful and I love it! If you feel inspired to create by this fic, which is buckwild in the best way, let me know! I'd love to see it. 
> 
> I hope that you are doing well! Please consider leaving a kudos or comment, it keeps me motivated and I appreciate every single one of you. Take care of yourselves!
> 
> EDIT: itsmaffi made another wonderful piece of fanart and oh gosh it's wonderful? It's of the maybe (definitely) date of you and Zen at the coffee shop.  
> [The Date](https://itsmaffi.tumblr.com/post/171195767493/yes-maybe-you-were-projecting-but-zenyatta)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fixed you with a cold look and did not respond, and that’s when you understood. You blanched, blood draining from your face unbelievably fast as you finally realized. 
> 
> Oh. He knows. They all know.

Dawn broke through the window of your room, soft and butter yellow. As beams of light tracked across the floor and up onto your bed, Zenyatta began to stir, the bright blue lights of his array flickering then holding strong. With a quiet, pleased hum, he buried his faceplate back into your hair and pulled you closer, the arm around your waist heavy and comforting across your skin as you continued to sleep. 

Zenyatta reflected that, although he would need to recharge later today, being able to sleep by your side was one of the higher points of his existence. Your face was pressed into a pillow, lines from the fabric imprinting your skin, and at some point during the night you had drooled a little. As the room lit up, you let out a grumble and buried yourself further into the blankets. You nestled back against him, your hair becoming even more mussed as you drifted off again with a soft snore. 

Zenyatta had seen many things, but you were definitely the most beautiful. 

He tenderly stroked a strand of hair out of your face, content to watch over you until you decided to wake up. After the events of last night, it had seemed like the world had shifted, but honestly, things had not much changed. This was not the first time you had slept in his arms, and if he had anything to say about the matter, it certainly would not be the last.

As Zenyatta entertained this line of thought, musing over the nature of your relationship, the screen of your computer lit up with a quiet _ding _.__

One of the truths about having perfect cameras for eyes meant that, for better or worse, the barest glance at any object or scene could give an Omnic all of visual information available in a fraction of the time it would take a person to parse. This meant that he did not have a chance to avoid seeing a chat box pop up in your email client. 

sombra: you mentioned a stealth engine. are there plans to implement it?  
sombra: find out and tell me.  
sombra: you’ve been doing well chica, don't screw it up. 

Zenyatta had a sinking feeling as he reread the text and began making connections. Possible theories, things he really did not want to believe, began to make sense. Things that had earlier been inexplicable. Your strange behavior, your stormy moods, and the guilt, the huge, unending _guilt_ that eclipsed everything else and made his nonexistent stomach churn with nausea. The hurt began to filter in, the feeling of betrayal inviting the first hints of devastation and sadness.

You looked so peaceful now, calm and sweet in the early morning of another day.

Zenyatta had never felt so lost.

* * *

Your eyes finally cracked open at 11:13, a hint of hangover headache pounding behind your eyes. With a groan, you stretched cat-like across the entire bed, unimpeded by any obstructions.

Wait. Hadn’t Zenyatta been with you? He had helped you up and back to your room, and once you were laying in bed, you had asked – 

_”Zen,” you said, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and tugging back more of the covers. “Stay with me? Please?”_

And he had stayed. Where did he go? You were hit with a sharp pang of worry – did he change his mind? It’s not like you were exactly a catch, you thought darkly. Why else would he have vanished without at least waking you? 

Fuck, you had work today as well and you were already late. You leapt into motion, going through the motions of getting ready, your mind going in circles wondering why Zenyatta had left the morning after you confessed to him. As you opened your door to leave, you were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice the person at your door until you got a face full of their chest.

“Oof!” You staggered back, blinking in surprise. It was Jack, looking at you as if you had kicked his cat, a fist in the air as if he had been just about to knock. Without a word, he snatched you by the wrist with a painful grip and jerked you into the hall, pulling you along while you spluttered and made an effort not to stumble. The distinctive clomp of Jack's boots seemed almost deafening compared to his silence.

“Jack! What’s going on, why – ” You tripped over your feet after a particularly hard tug, nearly falling before you managed to regain your footing. The glare you received was unprecedented and it hit you like an icy wave. 

“You know what you did,” he said shortly. “Stay quiet.”

“What – I don’t – ” An elevator opened and Jack guided you inside. You didn’t resist, you were too confused. Your stomach lifted as the elevator car began to rapidly descend. 

“Jack, I don’t understand,” you said quietly, your distorted reflection looking back at you from the dull metal walls.

He fixed you with a cold look and did not respond, and that’s when you understood. You blanched, blood draining from your face unbelievably fast as you finally realized. 

_Oh. He knows. They all know._

You kept your mouth shut as the doors opened and Jack led you out.

* * *

_Zenyatta wandered around, still reeling from the discovery, and found himself in the doorway of the engineering lab. Winston looked up from the recovered stealth engine, its parts scattered across the work bench, and saw him._

_“Oh! Uh, good morning. I don’t usually see you around here, come on in!” Winston hurriedly relocated a pile of spare parts from a chair and Zenyatta took a seat._

_“My friend, I am lost,” Zenyatta mumbled, barely audible above the ambient noises of the Watchpoint._

_Winston frowned. He had never seen the always calm, self-assured former monk at such a loss. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?”_

_Zenyatta hesitated. Was this right? This was obviously a huge breach in the trust of Overwatch, and to leave it unaddressed could prove disastrous. But you loved him, and he knew that for a fact. He had felt it, as near and precious as his own feelings, as you had drifted off in his arms last night. The guilt you felt was enormous. Maybe he should have tried to speak with you._

_Not for the first time, Zenyatta wished for Mondatta's support and guidance. He missed the Omnic that he had counted as a brother terribly, and even more so in times of duress._

_“I believe,” Zenyatta began, his measured voice giving no indication of his inner conflict, “that there is a potential danger to Overwatch that I need to discuss with you.”_

* * *

The holding cell, realistically, wasn’t that bad. It looked like a particularly sparse hotel room, save for the fact that one wall was solid plexiglass. There was no indication of time passing, and your only company was the unending tide of guilt, grief, and crying. 

This was your fault, you knew that. If you had just come forward immediately after Sombra had contacted you, it was likely that you would have received sympathy and support. Instead you had wallowed in your feelings and taken responsibility for something far larger than you were, dooming yourself to guilt and eventual discovery. Hindsight was always 20/20 after all, you reminded yourself as you ran out of tears yet again.

Crying for so long made you feel sick and sore; you curled up into the fetal position on the narrow bed and sniffled quietly. There didn’t appear to be anyone in this part of the Watchpoint; it was too quiet, and you were alone save for the glossy black eye of the surveillance camera on the ceiling.

You must have fallen asleep, because you were startled out of a dream by the sound of the slot on the heavy metal door clanging shut. The smell of food filled the room, and you recognized it as more of the leftover lasagna you had eaten just last night.

The thought of eating made your stomach tie itself in knots. You rolled over and tried to fall back asleep, hoping that you would return to your dream of Zenyatta by your side. Your heart ached.

* * *

The door slammed shut, and this time Jesse was there. His steely stare hit you just as hard as Jack's had. He beckoned you out of the cell and you followed, a few steps behind as he led you somewhere. 

No one had bothered with cuffs. It was obvious that they didn’t see you as much of a threat, at least physically. You knew for a fact that anyone in Overwatch could overpower you handily in a fight. Besides, Jack had put you through several weapons detectors, so there wasn't a possibility of you being armed.

No, they just thought you were a snake, someone who had posed as a friend to weasel into the middle of the reborn Overwatch to leak their secrets to the highest bidder. The thought was so unpleasant that you fought the urge to retch, and you hated yourself more with every step towards the unknown destination.

Jesse came to a halt in front of a nondescript gray door. He ushered you in and closed it behind you, the click loud against the quiet. Unsurprisingly, it was an interrogation room: concrete walls and a long metal table with Jack on the other side. You sat down and made yourself small as Jack pointedly did not look at you, instead electing to rearrange a stack of papers, reviewing them at his leisure while you squirmed. 

You wished Zenyatta were here.

When he finally looked at you, blue eyes hard as diamonds, you understood. You were not the first person Jack had interrogated. It was written in his face, his posture. Before he became strike commander, criminals and spies had been on the other side of this table and he had worked to pull out their secrets, no matter how reticent they were. He had done this many times before, and he would do it again today. Right now. To you.

“So,” Jack snapped roughly. “Do you wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

You started sobbing.

Jack sat and waited for you to stop, but there was no chance. Deep, heaving sobs tore out of your chest and left you breathless, ugly tears streaking down the grief wracked creases of your face. Funny, you had thought that you’d run out of tears, but this quickly put that theory to bed.

After a while, he tried again. “Tell me what you’re trying to pull,” he growled, rubbing his temples in frustration.

You responded by crying even more loudly, deep hiccups making it hard to breath. Whenever you considered trying to talk and defend yourself, you were only able to stutter a couple syllables before dissolving back into sobs. You just couldn’t.

There was a loud knocking sound from the wall opposite to you, the sound of fists hitting glass, and you jumped. It looked exactly like a concrete wall, but it was apparently one-way observation glass. You wondered whether Zenyatta was back there, watching you fall apart, and the thought prompted another wave of tears.

Jack took a deep breath and seemed ready to ignore it, opening his mouth to speak before he was interrupted by the same sound but louder this time, hammering instead of knocking. 

“Be right back,” he grumbled, and left the room.

There was a beat of silence, and then yelling. You recognized Lena's voice immediately, and though you couldn’t always distinguish the words, you could tell that she was tearing into Jack.

“- so hard she CAN'T EVEN TALK and you’re – “

She sounded completely irate. Was she defending you? You felt a faint flash of hope; maybe she was on your side. Even though you definitely didn’t deserve any help, you hoped beyond hope that things would somehow go back to normal.

The door opened again and there was Jesse, his expression completely morphed from his earlier disdain into something pained and pitying. He gave you a slow shake of his head before leading you back to the cell.

* * *

You were drifting again, half asleep on the cot, when you heard the slam of the door followed by the smell of food. Although you hadn’t eaten all day, you still weren't feeling hungry, so you closed your eyes again.

Then you heard a small, confused meow. Startled, you turned around and sat up.

Turtle looked at you from the ground with wide eyes, sitting beside a plate of stew and a bag filled with the cat's things.

“Hey, baby,” you cooed, delighted, your voice croaking from disuse. With a waving tail, Turtle raced across the room to leap up next to you. Irrationally you began to tear up as you hugged her, her loud purring nearly drowning out the distinctive clomp of boots retreating down the hall.

* * *

“Everyone, please calm down!” Winston's voice boomed above the din, making all the arguments and side conversations die down.

Zenyatta sat in the back, barely listening and not saying a word. Since your mutual confession, his capacity to sense and feel your emotions had amped up like a radio at maximum volume. Earlier in the day he had been rendered nearly immobile under the weight of your despair, unable to act before Genji found him. His student had taken the lessons Zenyatta had taught him and turned them back to him, helping his master center himself enough to at least function. Genji sat by his side now, his presence a comfort in the havoc around them. On Genji's other side was Hanzo, who had stoically remained uninvolved with any debates, but seemed as disturbed by the news of your possible betrayal as everyone else. A low charge notification flickered in the periphery of his optic loadout, noticeable and persistent enough to be distracting.

“Are you alright?” Genji asked quietly so that only Zenyatta could hear him, his speech not betrayed by the moving of lips.

“I would not go so far as to say that I am alright,” Zenyatta responded as everyone settled back down. “But I am more in control than I was before, and for that I have you to thank.”

“Thank you.” Winston adjusted his glasses, taking a moment before he continued addressing the gathered Overwatch agents. “I know that everyone feels strongly about this topic, but we won’t be able to move forward if we can’t keep our heads about it.”

“There has been a critical breach of information in the organization,” Jack grumbled for what seemed like the thousandth time. “We can’t let our guard down just because she seems harmless and upset.”

Hana and Lúcio, who had been at the epicenter of most of the arguments in your defense, bristled but didn’t say anything as Ana shot them a stern look.

“That's correct,” Winston continued, sounding reluctant. “I’ve gone into her computer to scan for any suspicious activity. I was able to uncover chat logs and emails between her and the outside party, and it’s concerning to say the least.”

With a few clicks, the chats appeared on the screen, accompanied by shocked reactions around the room.

“Sombra?” Jesse choked out, nearly dropping the unlit cigar from his mouth. “The hacker group that took down Lumérico?”

“Indeed.” Winston replied. “That means this is potentially much bigger than we thought.”

“Sombra brought down Lumérico because the CEO was being shady, stealing from the company and giving bribes,” Lúcio said, frowning. “What do they want with us? We're trying to keep people safe!”

“That is a good point,” Genji remarked, arms crossed. “Unless Sombra is not as moral as we were led to believe.”

“Not everyone believes that Overwatch exists to help,” Reinhardt said solemnly. Zenyatta had never seen him so sober and serious as he had been in the past several hours.

“Something worth noting is that, in this exchange, she seemed extremely unwilling to reveal information, followed by this response from Sombra.” Winston zoomed in on one of the chats, reading aloud, “Petras act says that Overwatch is still illegal. I’ve got my finger on the send button, start typing and don’t try to lie.”

The relief that flooded Zenyatta was indescribable. “It seems that Sombra has been blackmailing her. Information in exchange for Overwatch's continued existence.”

“Well, no wonder she was sobbing so hard! She’s probably felt awful about it!” Lena shot a glare at Jack.

“What do you mean?” Mei asked, puzzled. Zenyatta sympathized with her; not only was she stranded here for the time being, but she had walked right into a courtroom drama.

“Well, Jack tried to question her earlier, acting angry and tough like she’s a hardened super spy.” Lena huffed, miffed, and Jack rolled his eyes. “She completely broke down, poor love. Couldn’t get a word out of her,” Lena explained. “Had to near break the wall down to get him to stop!”

“It was protocol!” Jack protested, although his tone was less harsh than before.

Zenyatta felt another pang of guilt; he'd been around you when you were crying, and he could picture it all too easily: you crying, scared and alone, beneath the tons of earth and concrete of the Watchpoint.

“On her computer, I also found a surveillance software, custom made. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen,” Winston mentioned, pulling up the file. “Funny thing is, it wasn’t hidden at all. It was under a labelled folder called “Surveillance”. And in the folder, along with the software, was an image, here.”

The picture was a large square filled with much, much smaller squares in either black or white. Along the bottom border of the image there was text that read, “have fun,” and a signature pink sugar skull in the lower corner.

“Wait, is that a QR code? That’s super old!” Hana laughed and leaned back in her chair. “Some hacker, right?”

“Actually, I do not believe that is a QR code.” Zenyatta chose not to mention that Omnics automatically scan QR codes, antiquated though they were. He had inadvertently pulled up links to old websites more times than he could count. “The alternating black and white patterns on that scale leads me to believe that it may be binary.”

There was silence as everyone stared at the absolutely miniscule squares on the screen and contemplated manually translating it. Winston sighed.

“Meeting is over for now. I need to write a program that can decode it - there’s no way I’m doing this by hand.”

* * *

The meeting didn’t continue that day. There was a strange atmosphere around the base, simultaneously jumpy and subdued. Group conditioning had been cancelled, leaving the agents to distract themselves however they saw fit. Even after Zenyatta had finished charging around midnight, there was still tension in the air from those that remained awake. Anxious for any updates, Zenyatta went to find Winston.

To his surprise, Winston wasn’t the only one in the engineering lab. Ana was there, peering over his shoulder and making remarks.

“Good evening.” Zenyatta walked to stand by Ana at Winston’s shoulder. “Have there been any developments?” 

Winston dragged his hands down his face in frustration. “Oh yeah, there have been several ‘developments’. The binary was only the beginning, we’ve been going down a rabbit hole of codes and puzzles for the past – What time is it? - _six_ hours. Ana has experience with cryptography, so I enlisted her help.”

“The binary translated into ASCII, which translated into a URL,” Ana explained, gesturing at several notepads covered with incoherent scribbling. “which led to a page with an image, that needed to be three dimensionally wrapped around a cone…”

“That when viewed from the top was a QR code, which led to another URL – well, you get the idea. It eventually lead us to this.”

Zenyatta looked at the screen, where there was a nonsensical string of letters and numbers.

“I believe it’s a Vignére cipher, nothing else makes sense. But you need the keyword to decode it, which we do not have. Our guesses have led to dead link after dead link.” Ana scowled, making the lines around her eyes harsher. “We are stuck.”

Zenyatta scanned down the long list of keywords they had tried, noting a few: your name, overwatch, sombra, lumerico, engineer, hacktheplanet…

“There was a message written on the binary image,” Zenyatta remembered, perusing the list. “’Have fun.’ It may be worth trying.”

Winston and Ana exchanged a loaded glance before Winston typed it into the program with heavy fingers. A URL for a Dropbox service followed by a string of numbers appeared.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Winston grumbled as he pasted the URL into his browser. “How did we not think of that?” 

A video came up, and Winston clicked the play button as Ana patted his shoulder soothingly. “Hush, it has been a long day,” Ana said bracingly.

You appeared on the screen, much to Zenyatta's surprise, and you were staring at a spot just above the camera. The expression on your face conveyed fear as you stumbled backwards in shock.

“That's her room, isn’t – ” Winston cut himself off as you opened your mouth in the video, ready to scream.

A hand shot from behind the camera to cover your mouth. “ _Easy,_ chica _. I’m not gonna hurt you._ ” The voice was female, with a Mexican Spanish accent. Zenyatta felt a hot flash of anger as she squeezed your cheeks mockingly, anger that was mirrored in your own eyes.

The video, seemingly taken from a concealed bodycam, kept rolling, the levels of disbelief and anger from the gathered agents increasing the longer the video played. When the video finally ended with a flash of pink and a distorted laugh, Winston kicked his rolling chair backwards from the computer with a groan, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. Ana and Zenyatta exchanged a glance, nonverbally agreeing to give him a moment to collect himself. 

“This is our fault,” finally came his muffled voice. With a tired sigh, Winston lowered his hands and stared at them. “This is _my_ fault. I failed her.”

* * *

It was much harder to be anxious when there was a cat curled up and rumbling like a boat engine on your sternum. Turtle only laid on you like this, directly over your heart, when you were particularly distressed. The heat and weight calmed you down, and without anything else to do, you drifted at the edge of consciousness. You’d finally eaten and had water, and you felt so much better for it, but you had been here for indeterminable hours.

There was a clunking sound at the door as the locking mechanism slid back, and you turned your head to look. 

Ana stood in the doorway, raising a critical eyebrow at your state of disarray as you scrambled to sit up. “Come on,” she said briskly. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

“What’s going on?” you asked, standing up and gathering up Turtle's things.

“The sooner we get moving, the sooner you will know.” She started leading you back down the long hallway, the silence broken only by the regular tap of shoes against floor.

* * *

It was morning, you came to find out. There had been no way to tell without windows or clocks. After you’d showered and changed, Ana lead you to the briefing room. Fearing the worst, you entered.

Conversations came to a halt as you stepped over the threshold, and you flushed as every eye turned to you. There was a fraught silence that lasted several moments as you made brief eye contact with a couple people and then looked down. This is it, you thought dully. This is where I get kicked out.

The tap of wood against metal caught your attention, and you glanced up to see Zenyatta standing up from his seat on the other side of the table. Your heart leapt in your throat. With the attention of the room turned towards him, he began to take measured steps around the long table and towards you. Then, he began to speed up. By the time he reached you, he was moving at a brisk clip you had rarely seen from him.

When he wrapped his arms around you, you visibly shivered, holding onto him like a lifeline as the room broke out in surprised murmurs. The contact of metal against your bare arms went past your skin and all the way to your center, making you feel complete in a way that you didn’t realize you had been missing. 

“Oh,” he whispered, ragged and barely audible, and god, it had only been a day but you had missed his voice. “I am so, so sorry.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, perplexed, your throat still scratchy from disuse. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Zenyatta hesitated. In the silence, someone loudly cleared their throats and you abruptly remembered where you are. You dropped your arms and stepped back, making a concerted effort to not look at Lena, who you knew was waggling her eyebrows at you in your peripheral vision.

Winston was looking at you with a curious expression as you gave an apologetic smile. “Anyway,” he said in a measured voice, “if you’ll both take a seat, we can begin.”

You followed Zenyatta and meekly took a seat in between him and Genji. Everyone was still fixated on you, and your throat was dry as anxiety buzzed in your mind. Would this be the last time you saw everyone together? 

Genji reached out and placed a hard firmly on your shoulder, looking at you but saying nothing. “Thanks,” you whispered, briefly placing your hand atop his in a gesture of gratitude. It didn’t calm your nerves, but you appreciated the thought. 

“Now,” Winston began, addressing the room. “We all know that there was a severe breach in confidentiality. We know that you have been in contact with Sombra,” he addressed you, and you flinched. “We launched an investigation to determine the extent of the breach as well as your motivations. In addition, we will decide as a group what punishment you will face.” He looked almost apologetic as your reaction to these words was to start tearing up again.

With some clicking around, your chat logs appeared on the conference screen, and you reflexively flinched. Zenyatta’s hand found yours beneath the table and gripped it tight was you struggled to breathe normally. “We found these chat logs, of course, but during the course of a rather, uh, _unique_ investigation…” – here, Ana let out a puff of humorless laughter - “We discovered this video.”

The video began to play, and for a few disoriented moments, you didn’t understand when this footage of you had been taken. And then it clicked: this was Sombra when she broke into your room and started the whole thing. By the dumbfounded reactions around the room, you figured that most of them hadn’t seen this video before now. Hearing Sombra's smug voice and seeing her pinch your cheeks like a child gave you a hot flash of anger, followed by a familiar rush of despair. You could have prevented this.

When the video ended, the room sat in shocked silence for a few moments. 

“I think I can say for a fact that that’s textbook blackmail,” Jesse drawled wryly. “Though, you should’ve known better than to keep it to yourself.” Hanzo gave a thoughtful nod in agreement as he observed your reactions with a sharp eye. 

Before you could respond, Lúcio interrupted indignantly, “Wait, we aren’t really gonna punish her, are we? She was just trying to protect us!”

“That's what we're going to decide,” Jack explained, rubbing his temples. “She really should have brought this to us, but instead she let this Sombra character get under her skin.”

“But!” Reinhardt interjected. “She was willing to shoulder this burden alone to save Overwatch. Although the right thing to do would have been to share it with us, it was a brave act with honorable intentions!”

At this point you began to space out, worry circling endlessly in your thoughts until voices stopped reaching you entirely. All that existed was the patch of tabletop you were fixated on and the pressure of Zenyatta's fingers on your hand.

You broke above surface when Zenyatta said your name quietly. “I believe that you should say something. This event has come as a great shock to most of the agents.” His thumb skimmed across the backs of your fingers as he added, in a more subdued voice, “And to me, especially.”

“Oh.” Of course this had hurt you friends. They thought they could trust you. And now it was up to you to assure them that they could trust you again.

You stood up, and immediately everyone went silent. 

“I… I fucked up. There’s nothing else to it. I should have brought this to you as soon as I could have, but I thought I could handle it myself, I guess. I believed Sombra when she said she would expose Overwatch, and I thought that I was alone, that I was the only one who could keep all of our information safe.”

You voice was wavering, and you clenched your hands into fists; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone or else you would definitely start crying again. “I fucked up and I broke your trust. I’m, so s-sorry.” You paused to steady your voice before you continued, “I’m ready for whatever punishment is right, j-just please don’t make me leave. I’m really happy here, and I really do care about everyone a lot. I-I'll do whatever it takes to regain your trust. But please, please let me stay.” As you finished the last sentence, a couple tears escaped, and you very quickly blotted them away. When you finally looked around, you saw that several people were nodding while others just gave you reassuring smiles. 

Suddenly, there was a burst of static and audio feedback, loud enough to make you wince. The video screen was glitching out in chromatic squares, and you instinctively sat back down as Winston hurried to try and fix the problem.

A voice rang out through the din. “ _Well, isn’t this adorable?_ ” 

The screen resolved, and Sombra’s amused face appeared on the screen. A wave of angry and startled cries swept through the gathered agents. You shrank back into Zenyatta’s side, squeaking out, “Sombra?”

“Hey, _chica_.” She blew a kiss in your direction – how did she know where you were? She must have gained access to the conference camera. “Long time no see.”

“Sombra,” Winston snarled, stepping forward to stand centered in front of the screen. “What do you want? Why are you targeting her?” 

“Ay, _pobrecita_ ,” she purred, waving her fingers cheekily at Winston, who bristled. “Isn’t she sweet? It was almost too easy to get her to agree to play.” 

“What do you mean, play?” You had never heard Winston sound quite so dangerous.

“Just a little game I cooked up to play with Overwatch.” With a few gestures of her hand, footage and pictures of you appeared around the screen: you at work in the engineering lab, eating dinner with everyone, drunk on the kitchen floor with Zenyatta, and finally, you curled up and facing the wall in your holding cell. Your blood ran cold – had you ever been truly alone?

Jack slammed his hands on the table and you flinched. “What’s the meaning of this?” he yelled, furious.

“Oh, don’t act so offended. It was just a little pet project.” She smirked and tilted her head. “I only wanted to show you how your security is an absolute joke.”

Silence. She continued, “Do you know how easy it was to get my hands on your entire database, even the archives? I may be the best hacker in the world, but I’m not the only one who could’ve done it.” 

Snippets of confidential reports flashed through a rectangle on the side of the screen. “It was amateur hour! Infiltrating your ‘secret’ base and getting control of Athena took me hardly any time. Do you think Talon is playing around? Did no one think to update the security around here after Overwatch disbanded?” She cleared the screen with a scoff. “Tech doesn’t stand still, hacking especially.”

Winston looked a little shaken by her tirade but kept a stone face nevertheless. “What is it that you want from us?” 

Her smug, superior demeanor returned as she leaned back in her chair and folded her fingers. “Glad you asked. I have a deal to offer you, and I recommend you seriously consider it.”

Taking the lack of response as a response itself, she continued. “Talon suspects I'm up to something and they’re cutting me off from information. I didn’t know about the Amazon mission until I heard it from her, and I’ve uncovered other operations that were meant to be kept from me. I’m not with Talon because I love the mission philosophy,” she laughed. “I’m here because this was where I had the most resources, where I could hold all the cards. Seems that the wind is changing, so I plan to jump ship.”

“Hah, and I’m guessing you want us to help you?” Lena piped up, crossing her arms derisively. “There’s no way! You’re a thief, and a no good - ”

“Easy, Lena,” Mei soothed, patting her on the arm before Winston could scold her.

“Oh, Tracer. It’s been a while.” Sombra winked at her, eliciting an angry stammer, and then continued, “Anyway, like I said, I’ve got a deal. I’ll stay with Talon only in name, but I’ll pass along a few trade secrets – just enough for me to get by without being detected. And I’ll help update your security, so some time a dozen hacker can’t watch the footage of Lena running into a door yesterday.”

“Hey, what? I did not!” Lena protested.

“Hmm? Oh, my mistake you’re right. It was the day before.” With a click, a video appeared, showing Lena blinking down the hall and hitting a closing door at full force, making her fall on her butt. It startled an inappropriately timed laugh out of you and a couple other agents.

“And what if I don’t take the deal?” Winston asked flatly.

Sombra gave a noncommittal hum and inspected her nails. “Well, I do have access to every confidential document in your system. If I gave Talon access to it, I’m sure they’d start trusting me more. Or maybe I could leak it to every major news outlet. Who knows?”

“But what do you want from us?” Reinhardt's grim tone of voice gave you a sense of unease. Were they really going to agree to this?

“Information.” Sombra smiled widely, and you didn’t trust it for a second. “I want to find out who’s really pulling the strings.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the moment that followed. Looking around the room, you saw uncertainty, anger, and fear.

Winston deflated, turning away from the screen and addressing the room. “We are going to need to discuss this.”

“Clock’s ticking, monkey. Expect a call from me as soon as you make a decision – and trust me, I’ll know when it happens.” Sombra smiled at you. “Thanks for the help, _chica_ , couldn’t have done it without you. _Adiós_.” With a flash of pink and purple static, the call ended, and the room was, once again, silent.

* * *

The meeting had been adjourned for what you assumed was another meeting, this one to determine the plan moving forward. You made yourself a big mug of instant coffee from Jesse's stash - you figured he wouldn’t mind, considering the circumstances. As you went to find a recreation room in which to nurse your drink, someone tapped you on the shoulder from behind.

It was Hana, and as you turned, she lifted both arms to offer you a hug. With a small smile, you wrapped an arm around her narrow frame and lowered your head to rest your chin on her shoulder, carefully holding your coffee away with your other hand. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled reflexively.

“Lúcio and me knew the entire time that you wouldn’t have done it,” she told you, and your heart warmed.

“Hey, speak of the devil,” came Lúcio’s cheerful voice from the side. "E aí?" You allowed him to gently extract the mug from your fingers, set it on a table, and pull you both into an encompassing hug. The mixed smell of Hana’s bubblegum and Lúcio's subtle, spicy cologne surrounded you, comforting and unique.

“She's right, though,” Lúcio added, voice gentler now. “We always believed in you.” 

“I love you guys,” you whispered, and you wrapped your other arm around Lúcio’s waist. The three of you stood there, embracing, for what felt like a long time but wasn’t as long as it felt. Just enough time for your coffee to go from way too hot to just hot enough.

* * *

It was early evening now, and you were pacing a track into your bedroom floor while Turtle watched bemusedly from her perch atop your desk. You were unbearably restless; you’d spent most of the day between video games with Hana and Lúcio, followed by an unsuccessful attempt to find Zenyatta. No one seemed to know where he went, and that stung. Didn’t he want to see you after everything that had happened? The uncertainty gave you a weird gut feeling all over again. 

With a huff of frustration, you opened your door and left your room to walk down the hallway. You allowed yourself to mindlessly wander, turning and going up flights of stairs at times for no other reason than it felt like the right time to do so. 

Your feet took you up to the rooftop garden, and you pushed the door open with more force than was necessary. The metal door pinged against the concrete wall loudly and you sighed, taking the time to prop it open properly. When you turned around, you noticed with a start that, oh, you’d found Zenyatta.

You were hit with a strong sense of déjà vu as you approached, the fading sunlight making Zenyatta’s golden accents gleam. He was in meditation, although this time he was floating gently at about waist height. The orbs surrounded him, orbiting in lackadaisical, meandering paths as they chimed.

“…Zen?”

No response. You circled around and hesitantly reached out to place a hand against his forehead. The orbs swerved to avoid running into your arm, but besides that, there was no acknowledgement of your presence. Frowning, you sat on the ground and stubbornly decided to wait it out. 

Minutes passed, and bit by bit, the annoyance slipped away until you were calmer. Your thoughts quieted and slowed, and you let your eyes slip shut. The sun was setting somewhere behind you, and the last rays of light painted your back with warmth. The soft bell tones of the orbs and the sound of breeze rustling the plants surrounded you, and for a while you just existed. Over several minutes, the sound of the orbs changed in a way you couldn’t define. You cracked your eyes open, only for them to completely widen in surprise.

Only a few inches in front of your nose, one of the orbs spun past and circled around your back. All of them were now moving in a purposeful orbit, one that included you. The peals from them were further in between as they settled into a pattern, an infinity symbol that held you and Zenyatta in either end.

When you looked up at Zenyatta, nothing had physically changed, but you knew that he saw you now. “Zen?” you asked, your voice shaky. Now the insecurity came creeping back in, the confusion, the loneliness. As it did, the certain path of the orbs faltered and splintered, and they retreated to fall back around Zenyatta's neck. 

“I am here,” he responded, and slowly descended until he was sitting on the ground just in front of you. He had sounded sad just then, hadn’t he?

“What’s wrong?” you asked and reached out for his hand. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted your hand between both of his, resting it on the fabric in his lap. You scooted a little closer to allow this, and Zenyatta carefully turned your hand over to trace the lines on your palm.

“I am sorry.” His voice was laden with regret and worry, and you didn’t understand why.

“You said that earlier, too. Why are you apologizing?” you wondered aloud, transfixed by the sight of metal fingertips skimming across your hand.

Zenyatta didn’t respond for a long moment, his fingers slowing and stilling on your skin, and you waited as patiently as you could. In a deceptively measured voice, he said, “I am the one who brought Winston's attention to your situation.” You blinked in surprise as he continued, “That morning, your computer screen lit up with messages. I… I did not have the choice to avoid seeing them.”

You thought for a moment. Zenyatta had told Winston about your involvement with Sombra. That made sense – it stung a little, but it made sense. “I still don’t understand why you’re apologizing.” Something occurred to you, and your stomach dropped with a tight, unpleasant squeeze. Zenyatta reflexively held your hand tighter as the feeling reached him.

“I think I know; you hadn’t known that I was giving Sombra information,” you said blearily, the words heavy. “Didn’t know that I was betraying everyone. But now that you know, you don’t want to be with me anymore. Right?” 

Zenyatta had gone stock still, and to your concern, his optic array began to flicker rapidly in a way you hadn’t seen before. “No!” he objected, almost frantic, and the intensity of the word made your heart skip a beat. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “No. I did the wrong thing by going to Winston without speaking with you in order to learn the whole story.”

“What? Zen, no. I think that was the right thing to do, I was doing something bad.” Who knows how much longer you would have continued to struggle alone if nothing had stopped you?

“Regardless of your actions, which did not occur because you wished them too, I allowed my distress to cloud my vision. I knew that you had been feeling oppressive, unbearable guilt, yet I did not first ask you. You made yourself vulnerable to me by telling me that you love me,” here his voice shifted from quick and desperate to something ponderous and slow, “and I repaid that by betraying you. I am so, so sorry.” 

You were quiet as you processed this, your pulse beating hard in your ears as you realized just how much this had affected him. “Zen, it’s okay,” you soothed, and you shifted up onto your knees to hug him around the shoulders. “Maybe I should be more upset about it, but I'm really not. I’m not sure how much longer I would have gone on with it, if you hadn’t said anything. Honestly, I should thank you.”

“I felt all of your anguish while you were being held captive,” he said, bringing his arms up to pull you closer. “I felt it as if it were my own, and then even more so due to my answering distress. It very nearly broke me, and I wish to never be the cause of it again.” 

“I think you did the best thing for the situation,” you reassured him again, you gently pressed a kiss to the center of his optic array.

Zenyatta laughed and pulled away from the kiss. “What a strange sensation that was,” he teased, voice lilting. “Those are effectively my eyes, after all.” 

“Oh! God, I feel dumb, I forgot,” you giggled, cheeks going pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Zen. I guess I’m still getting used to, well, this.” You hesitated. “You… still like me, right?”

“No,” he responded solemnly, and your heart stopped. “I love you, I’m afraid. And there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“You scared me,” you said, relieved. And then, very softly, you told him, “I love you, too.”

“Such a quiet response,” he said lightly, although you could tell he was hoping for an explanation. 

“It still doesn’t feel real,” you confessed, pressing your forehead to his. “It still feels like I’m going to wake up, and poof, it never happened.”

“I am not sure why you are so adamant that you are dreaming,” he hummed, and you let Zenyatta tug and adjust you until you sat in the space between his legs, facing him. He then carefully pulled your legs over his to bracket his waist. “Please, look at me.” You tilted your chin up, admiring the worn, sweet face of the Omnic who you loved, and your eyes became half lidded with affection.

His hands skimmed up your sides and your lips parted in a quiet gasp at the barely there feeling, and you instinctively leaned in closer…

Zenyatta pinched your sides lightly and you let out an undignified, ticklish squawk.

“Oh, dear,” Zenyatta chuckled, dragging his fingers in circles up your sensitive sides as you flailed and giggled, trying to escape. “Would you still say that you’re dreaming? Or have I disproven that?”

“S-stop it!” you cried, squirming as you tried to extract yourself until, mercifully, he stopped tickling you and simply held you. “Mean,” you mumbled halfheartedly, at which Zenyatta hummed cheerfully and pressed his face against your hair.

The sun had finally set, and the air began to feel cool against your skin. You sighed happily and nestled your face in the crook of his neck, feeling safe and treasured in his presence. Zenyatta pulled you closer yet, his grip almost needy in the receding light, and together you sat entwined until the stars had long since come out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two months since I updated this, yikes. I'm really sorry! I've just been having such a bad time of things, especially these past several weeks. But the good news is that I'm graduating on Saturday! My efforts are paying off, haha. Still, that's no excuse. Every comment that's been left encouraged me to work harder! I'm sorry that I didn't respond to them as quick as I usually do. Thank you all so much. c:
> 
> This chapter was a beast, nearly twice the normal length and not super fun or cheerful content-wise. I really wanted to resolve most of the tension in one chapter, I hope it turned out alright! 
> 
> Sweetooze did an excellent art of Zenyatta and Turtle, and I love it so much!!!! [Adorable](https://sweetooze.deviantart.com/art/Adorable-735875745)  
> Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all of you. Please consider leaving a kudos or comment, they really make me feel happy. I love you!  
> Also thank you to sweetooze for the Brazilian help, hopefully I'll get more chances to work it in later. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I am working without an editor/reader, so if you see any mistakes that I missed please let me know. Hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up soon.


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